Erosion
by snidely
Summary: Drought has forced MesaClan to fight for water, and when Icestar becomes leader, he announces a new strategy for victory. Meanwhile, one fierce apprentice harbors ambition that may one day reach dangerous proportions. Full summary inside.
1. The Funeral

_The cats of the mesa are fighting for water rights against their neighbors in a bitter struggle for survival. Drought and war are taking their toll, and when Mottlestar dies from battle wounds, Icestar becomes leader and announces a new strategy for victory: to the shock of many, he begins inviting kittypets into the Clan, replacing fallen sons and daughters with undisciplined cats who were raised by Twolegs. Most of the Clan does their best to accept the strangers, but these kittypets are unfamiliar and weak. Resenting their presence, an ambitious apprentice named Darkpaw watches the leader with a critical and jealous eye. She's wanted to be leader for as long as anyone can remember, and Eaglepaw fears what her dissatisfaction with Icestar's leadership might drive her to do. Meanwhile, young love blooms, complicating everything._

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

Everyone knew, by this point: she wasn't going to get up again. The cats of the mesa gathered in the dark around her, the medicine cat already standing at her side, and as he raised his head to look at the stars, the apprentices were starting to realize. The orange and black fur of her tortoiseshell pelt no longer rose and fell along her flank, now eerily still. This life was her last. The warriors didn't have to tell them that.

Eaglepaw, a young tabby with a white muzzle, stood several tail-lengths away from her body, beginning to shake involuntarily with a pain in his heart worse than a scorpion sting. He couldn't bring himself to take a step closer, too afraid to see for sure that his leader was dead, even though he already knew. What he felt wasn't sadness. It felt like this couldn't be happening.

The enemy forces of CuestaClan had been driven off for now, and this should have been a time of celebration. Eaglepaw still remembered the look on Mottlestar's face as she returned from the battlefield, victorious. She had led the troop of warriors home, battered and bleeding but yowling their success and championing the good news to those who'd remained at camp. Their territory was safe, and no cat in MesaClan would go thirsty.

She was wounded, but it didn't look bad. The medicine cat and his apprentice should have been able to fix her up, stem the bloodflow, keep her healthy and strong, on her paws and ready for anything, like the little ones thought she would always be. But this time their skills had failed, just as they had with Eaglepaw's father.

Eaglepaw was too young when his father died to remember much of him, but Mottlestar had been MesaClan's leader his entire life so far. She'd been a tough she-cat, harsh but fair. She had always weathered every storm before this one.

She should have been okay. Even if there was nothing that could be done about the infection, there should have been another chance left.

Most cats didn't know that this was already her last.

Nobody really expected her deputy to become leader, in Eaglepaw's opinion, but then, no one likes to imagine what it's like when their grandmother is gone. He had always expected Mottlestar to outlive her deputy and pick another before her own death came to pass. Instead, it was she who died first.

Icebreeze, soon to be Icestar, had declared Mesquitestripe the new deputy well before moonhigh, and then he went off to receive his nine lives during the vigil. There were whispers, here and there—many warriors had a bad feeling about him taking over, not because he wasn't a good warrior, of course, but they didn't know how this might change the course of the war. One does not switch out warriors in the middle of a hunt, as the saying went. As a deputy, Icestar had always been a benevolent but passive authority, rarely involving himself. Now he would have almost complete control.

He shouldn't have let his thoughts wander. This might be the last chance for everyone to see their matriarch in one piece before the coyotes got to her, but Eaglepaw was unable to focus on his grief, his thoughts plagued by another anxiety. Mottlestar's death—her final death—came at a bad time, during a drought and a war brought on by that drought, and the shallow pools had become the only source of water for him and his Clan—but that's not what he was worried about.

As some of the warriors shared their memories of Mottlestar, he kept casting discrete glances at Darkpaw, a fellow apprentice, in order to keep a wary eye on her. She was not far away, a strong and agile hunter with the muscles of a MesaClan cat, built for leaping and climbing. Her face was almost as thick as her shoulders were broad, her fur was once as black as the night, now lightened by sunbleaching to a dusky brown in places, and her eyes were a foreboding yellow that chilled him to the bone. Often—more often then he'd like—he'd seen those eyes give a harsh glare or burn with ferocity. Much as he hated to admit it, she was a prideful, possessive cat who liked to boss others around, and she had nursed a spark of ambition since her kithood. He knew, for her, it would seem within reason to assume that by the time the deputy died, she might be old enough and experienced enough to take his place. She might've even survived long enough to outlive Mottlestar, too, and take _her_ place. She could've been leader one day. Now that Icestar was leader, off to commune with StarClan and take his nine lives at the Moontree, it would be many seasons and many lifetimes before he passed away and left the position vacant. There was no chance of her living that long.

As Eaglepaw watched her, Darkpaw kept her head down and her eyes closed, concealed. He had his guesses as to what she was really thinking as she shared tongues with Mottlestar for the last time. He'd known Darkpaw for many moons, all their lives—just like all the other apprentices—and he could remember the kind of games she liked to play.

_Pretend I'm the leader!_ she would always say. Her sister sometimes wanted to be the deputy. Skunkkit, a little black-and-white molly, usually liked to pretend to be an elder, but one time she pretended to be a medicine cat and tried stuffing leaves in everyone's ears, just to be silly, and soon everyone was rolling around giggling at her. They were happy memories—just so long as no one tried to fight Darkkit for the position of leader.

Darkpaw knew the requirements for becoming a deputy well. During apprenticeship, he'd noticed how she paid close attention to her mentors—as though she wasn't just taking in their wisdom and instructions, but studying them, hoping to emulate them one day. She liked asking the warriors what having an apprentice was like. He'd even overheard her, once, asking Mottlestar about how she picked the mentors for new apprentices. Power over a Clan begins with power over just one. It was obvious what she was pining for and what she was hoping to achieve.

As for Eaglepaw, he didn't want much from life. Just the simple things—to become a respected warrior, take a pretty she-cat as his mate, and have lots of kits. He was well on his way to the "becoming a warrior" part, having completed more than four moons of training. His mentor said he was doing great. It was just that pesky "taking a mate" part that still eluded him. There were plenty of other mollies of his age within flirting distance. Smokepaw was very pretty, as pretty as they came. She was by far the most graceful, and she was patient and kind. Her calico sister had also been attractive, while she had been alive. Skunkpaw, a black-and-white molly, was cute in her own way, with a great sense of humor, and she could be very affectionate. Any of them would have made good mates. Any of them would have made good mothers. It was just his luck, his dirty stinking filthy rotten crowfood-ridden luck, that the object of all his dreams and desires had to be Darkpaw.


	2. The Announcement

A/N: Forgot to say this last time. I really want to see any feedback, even if it's all negative. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

CHAPTER TWO

"Let all cats old enough to hunt for their own prey gather under Flatstone for a Clan meeting," Icestar declared, standing tall upon a large, flat bounder that elevated him above the others in camp. For the cats of the mesa, camp was situated in a narrow empty stretch where, if the sun was right, some of the rocks offered shade for part of the day. The camp itself was little but orange dust and dry rocks, sparsely populated with prickly pear cactus and desert shrubs, but to MesaClan, it was home.

Some of the warriors sat up and perked their ears while resting under the shadow of a small pinnacle, as the curious apprentices—every one of them but Foxpaw, who was out hunting with his mentor—all gathered right below the white tomcat's paws. This was Icestar's first announcement as leader, the afternoon after receiving his lives from StarClan. Everyone was awaiting his words.

"Though it came at a great cost, our latest battle has been won, and we will continue to fend off the cats of the cuesta until the rain returns. We are strong, we are skillful, and we shall prevail. However, the war has already claimed several young lives, and in the coming days, only StarClan knows who might be taken from us next—StarClan forbid. With that said, we will need to call upon additional resources if our warriors are to succeed."

Some of the warriors exchanged glances with each other. No one had any idea what these "additional resources" might be.

"I have been planning something special for many moons now. It will take some time before I can show you, but StarClan willing, you will have open minds and welcoming hearts. As your leader, I must insist we do what gives us the greatest chance of victory in the war and the greatest hope of survival for future generations, for in these dire times we cannot reject any viable strategy out of mouth to the detriment of our own numbers."

The short speech was vague and unclear, but that was all he said before he leapt off of Flatstone and concluded the meeting. One of the apprentices, Smokepaw, followed him with her eyes. It appeared as though he was heading out of camp, with the deputy, Mesquitestripe, at his side.

The mystery of Icestar's speech left Smokepaw feeling uneasy. He had her loyalty, unquestionably, but she did not know what lengths he planned to resort to. Hopefully, nothing extreme. Hopefully, he was just trying to be encouraging.

As Smokepaw scrutinized his receding form for some clue, Darkpaw turned around to the rest of the apprentices and suggested, "We should follow him!"

"We'd get in trouble," Smokepaw replied, without looking at her. No point in continuing to stare after him, she decided. She picked up a paw and began to wash her ankle, confident in her dismissal. There was no way to evade detection in this terrain, and Icestar hadn't indicated that he wanted anyone to accompany him.

"Aw, you dirtclods are no fun," Darkpaw grumbled, batting a pebble.

"What do you think he plans to do?" asked Copperpaw, a small tabby named for the copper-headed vipers of these lands. He looked anxious, and in that he was not alone.

The apprentices looked around at each other. No one had any real idea. Icestar had spoken nothing of this as deputy, and if Mottlestar had known, she couldn't speak of it now.

Eaglepaw twitched his tail. "He might've gone to the cats of the arroyo for help."

"But that will never work!" Darkpaw pointed out, turning to him. "And it's a full day's journey across the desert! He'd be a foolish leader to go off and leave everyone behind for that long on his first day as leader."

Eaglepaw frowned at the way she'd shot down his idea, and he looked as though he was going to say something, but before he could speak, Skunkpaw butted in, saying, "Maybe he'll ask the prairie dogs to help us!"

Copperpaw and Darkpaw laughed, and the annoyance slid off Eaglepaw's face as he chuckled too. The idea of prairie dogs running into battle was pretty funny, after all, what with their chubby little bodies and squeaky cries. Smokepaw remained silent, but there was a sparkle in her eye that admitted her amusement. Encouraged by their laughter, Skunkpaw crouched down and started making prairie dog sounds.

"Just what are y'all getting up to?" came the voice of Yuccaclaw, sister to Icestar.

"I've devised a plan to end the war, Yuccaclaw!" Skunkpaw exclaimed. "CuestaClan won't stand a chance if we send some prairie dogs after them!"

Though she must've known Skunkpaw was joking, the warrior looked serious. "May this light-hearted attitude you all share serve you well in battle. We'll be taking three of you with us next time." With that, she turned and left, leaving nothing but dread in her wake.

Quieted, the apprentices looked at each other once more, now filled with a whole new fear. They'd never faced battle themselves before. In the first battle of the war, the bloodiest of them all, the warriors had taken with them a sister to Darkpaw and Smokepaw and a sister to Eaglepaw and Copperpaw. They had both died of bloodloss. In the next battle, the warriors took Foxpaw's brother, and he died of infected wounds. After that, Mottlestar decided that the apprentices needed to endure more training before being brought to the battlefield. Some of the apprentices were confident by nature, but none of them were cocky enough to think they were ready. They'd heard about what battles were like. The cats of CuestaClan were usually forgiving and judicious, but they'd been pushed to extremes by the drought, and after they'd lost a litter of kits to malnutrition, their warriors had fought like hornets in every battle for the right to drink from the shallow pools. Their motivations were understandable, but MesaClan was in similar straights and could not afford to give ground. And so the war continued.

"Well, they're not sending me," Copperpaw meowed, and he could be sure of that because he was the medicine cat's apprentice.

Darkpaw glared at him.

"What?" he squeaked, wilting under her gaze.

"You had better treat me and Smo real well if we come back covered in blood."

"I'll try my best—"

"They're probably not going to send you anyway, Darkpaw," Eaglepaw argued. "I bet it's going to be me, because StarClan hates me. If anything bad happens, it always happens to me."

"Poor, pitiful Eaglepaw," came another voice, far away. Smokepaw and the others spun around. It was Foxpaw, having just dropped a jack rabbit at the fresh-kill pile, and now the gray ticked-tabby was ambling toward the group. "It must be so hard for you, especially now that you're the leader's own apprentice."

"Rut off, Foxpaw," Eaglepaw spat, glaring at him.

"Icestar made an announcement while you were gone," Copperpaw informed him, sharing the news and changing the subject.

"Anything I should care about?"

"Well—"

"No? Alright. Let me know if something important happens. I'll be taking a nap."

Smokepaw watched him walk away, a bit annoyed, but he usually wasn't much trouble if you left him alone.

Eaglepaw, far more irritated, was staring after him with narrowed eyes. "That cat—that's one of us they won't be sending, that's for sure," the mackerel-tabby remarked, an ominous certainty in his voice.

"Why not?" Copperpaw asked.

"Because he's got the heart of a snake," he replied at once.

"Scorpionpelt says he fights well," Darkpaw pointed out.

"He does?" Smokepaw murmured, lowering her head as she looked at her sister for confirmation of the unlikely claim.

"Well," Skunkpaw whispered back, lowering her head as well, "when Foxpaw's not around to hear, he says he does 'adequately', and coming from Scorpionpelt, that's practically glowing praise."

Darkpaw snickered and Smokepaw cracked a smile, but in response to the original claim, Eaglepaw spoke over their voices and declared in a firm tone, "It doesn't matter how good a warrior anyone says he is, because you can't trust someone like that, especially with his heritage." He was referring to the fact that Foxpaw's father was from ArroyoClan, which Smokepaw didn't see as particularly relevant at the moment, but Eaglepaw went on. "He might not even care to fight when the time comes. What has he done to show he's loyal? He'd probably only stand by whatever side seemed like they were winning."

At that accusation, the black apprentice frowned as though unconvinced, looking as serious as her mother Yuccaclaw had earlier. "You're forgetting that CuestaClan killed his brother."

"So what, Darkpaw? Why do you always argue with me? I lost a sister to them, too, remember!" he exclaimed. "You think that was easy for me?"

Smokepaw thought he was missing the point, but she didn't say anything. She often didn't say anything, and she often went unnoticed. This suited her fine, as she didn't have the first idea what she would do with attention if she got any. Darkpaw and Eaglepaw were the loud and active ones—which might've been part of why they so often clashed like this, struggling for dominance. She suspected one of them would have to win out over the other, one day.

Skunkpaw looked uncomfortable during the pause, looking back and forth between them. Smokepaw felt a little sorry for her, seeing her with her ears flattened and her body tense, though the gray apprentice couldn't make sense of why she cared about her in particular when there were others just as unhappy.

"I think your fixation on your own woes makes you a mouse-brain," Darkpaw replied, beginning to stand. "So I don't care if it was easy for you." She and Smokepaw had lost a sister as well. From Smokepaw's perspective, this was a pointless competition. Darkpaw turned to leave, and Smokepaw followed her sister, as she always had done. Twisting her ear behind her, she could hear Eaglepaw mutter to his brother as they left.

"What a cold-hearted she-cat."


	3. One Day

CHAPTER THREE

As they watched the sisters leave, Copperpaw remarked, "I'm sure she'll soften up one day. Doesn't that happen with all she-cats as they get older?"

Skunkpaw rose back up to her full height and shook her head. "You've got it backwards. She-cats are always getting harder and harder until one day, we turn to stone."

"You're making that up," Copperpaw said, but he was frowning and there was an edge of doubt to his voice.

Looking at his face and the way he appeared almost frightened, Eaglepaw burst out laughing. Skunkpaw wiggled her whiskery eyebrows.

At that point, however, the medicine cat shouted out an order for Copperpaw to go fetch some herbs. Eaglepaw went with him to help, and Skunkpaw would have gone too—if her mother, Lightface hadn't called her aside. A quiver of anxiety wracked her little round body at the sound of the queen's voice.

"Yes, mother?" It was unusual for a kit not to call a parent by their name, but then again, the two of them had an unusual relationship.

"It's time we had a talk."

It was always time they had a talk.

Skunkpaw slunk toward her, head low, and the pale warrior turned to lead her to another part of camp. When the warrior stopped, she turned around and faced her once more, looking down upon her daughter with a slight droop to her eyelids and an unhappy expression on her light-gray face.

"Skunkpaw, you are no longer a kit. You're almost a warrior now."

Skunkpaw wasn't sure where this was going. She didn't look up.

"As Icestar has pointed out, we are in danger of losing this war if we do not do everything we can, and the generations must continue. The toms of your own age have now matured and developed—"

The apprentice bit her tongue and tried not to snicker. Lightface would be angry with her if she laughed while she was speaking. It was just that she couldn't help but think of when the young toms had first begun to physically "develop." Skunkpaw and Darkpaw would have laughed for a moon at the funny little lumps under their tails if their mentors hadn't threatened to throw them to the coyotes.

"And you, too, are grown now, enough for you to bear their kits."

"Mother!" The shout was involuntary; she did it without meaning to, shocked and repulsed by what Lightface was saying.

"Hush your tongue. Unless you wish to pursue an arrangement with a cat of the arroyo—which I will aid you with, should you choose that path—you have your choice of two toms. Foxpaw may be prickly, but he's nice enough looking, isn't he? Have you talked to him?"

Skunkpaw wrinkled her nose as if she smelled crowfood.

"You can try for Eaglepaw then. You're probably not attractive enough to get his attention, but you can try."

As her mother went on, the smaller cat was feeling more and more uncomfortable.

"He's very handsome, but it doesn't appear as though he has his eye on anyone yet, not even Smokepaw, so there could still be time for you to impress him. If Smokepaw tries to compete with you, I will deal with her for you. We can't raise new warriors until there are kits first. You may not be much, Skunkpaw, but you're capable of this. Go catch up with Eaglepaw now and tell him you want to tell him something private. Understand?" Lightface paused. When her daughter didn't respond, she again prompted, "Skunkpaw, this is the only way for you to have kits."

"Mother, I don't want kits."

Lightface looked at her in disbelief. "Skunkpaw, you love kits."

She shuffled her paws, feeling sick to her stomach. "But... I don't want to... _have_ them..."

"You'll feel differently one day. Until then, I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense. You're just shy, that's all. Go, run along, and make sure to wash yourself again so you'll look nice for Eaglepaw. You two would make beautiful kittens."

Skunkpaw felt like she was going to vomit. As her mother walked away, she trembled and crouched low to the ground. Just the thought of living things growing inside her made her want to hurl. She loved kits, she did, but she'd rather play with someone else's than have her own. Even if it weren't for the unbearable pain at the end—and that was no trivial matter—the idea of carrying kits was disgusting, and she wanted none of it. Her mother would never believe her, though. That might be what unsettled her most of all.

Needing something to lift her spirits, she looked around camp and saw Smokepaw and Darkpaw near the fresh-kill pile. Lightface was right about one thing—Smokepaw was far prettier than she was. The black-and-white apprentice always felt nervous around her because of that. Still, it would make her happy to talk to her. Skunkpaw mustered her courage and trotted over to the pair of littermates, hoping to share a more pleasant conversation with them and banish all thoughts of her mother.

"Finally get tired of Eaglepaw being a dillobrain?" Darkpaw asked, her tone caustic.

"Honestly, I prefer you two over them," Skunkpaw admitted. "I wish everyone could get along."

Smokepaw did not speak, curling her tail around herself and letting the tip rest at her paws. She was such a slender, elegant cat. No other she-cat in the territory could hope to match her.

Hurrying to say more lest there be silence between them, Skunkpaw added, "I know Eaglepaw was being rude, but you should've heard what Copperpaw said after you two were gone."

Darkpaw tried to exchange glances with her sister, but Smokepaw was looking at Skunkpaw, her ears pricked forward to hear the story.

"He said, 'Don't worry, she-cats get softer as they age, right?' and—"

"He said that?" Darkpaw interrupted, her eyes widening.

"Yes— Obviously he's never met Yuccaclaw—" Skunkpaw agreed, preparing to continue, though that comment alone was enough to make Darkpaw laugh. "So I told him, 'No, actually, what happens is that we get harder and harder as we age until one day, we just turn into rocks'."

Darkpaw laughed at that too, but Smokepaw didn't look amused. Smokepaw was always so stone-faced—Skunkpaw never felt like she'd really been funny unless one of her jokes got to _her_.

"I guess that's why we don't have any she-elders, then," Foxpaw butted in.

"Of course we do! They're all around us!" Skunkpaw retorted, but she caught the way Smokepaw had twitched her whiskers at Foxpaw's comment. "Hey! There's only room for one funny cat around here, furball." She broadened her stance and puffed up her fur, her tail curled in a playful arch. "You wanna settle this? You wanna fight?"

"Not particularly." The young tom took a seat.

As Skunkpaw flattened her fur, she narrowed her eyes at him and concluded, "You're just afraid."

It was clear Foxpaw was not frightened at all by her goofy braggadocio, and that's why Smokepaw showed her a small smile. Skunkpaw's tail was sent straight up at the sight, and she considered that a win for the day.

Before Skunkpaw could do anything else to make a fool of herself, though, Icestar was sighted in the distance.

"There he is!" Junipernose shouted from atop a rock.

"I see him!" Yuccaclaw exclaimed.

"Who is that?" Batfur chimed in, and soon there was much confused yowling as all the cats of the mesa noticed the _other_ cat their leader was bringing back with him.


	4. Icestar's Surprise

CHAPTER FOUR

Copperpaw and his brother hadn't found many herbs, but as they were returning, they came upon a great commotion in camp. Copperpaw turned to look at Eaglepaw and would've asked him what was going on if his mouth weren't full, but it was clear from Eaglepaw's face that he didn't have the answer either. Then his hair stood on end as he smelled—and saw—something strange. _An intruder!_ Copperpaw hurried to the medicine den and dropped the herbs before scrambling after his brother, climbing onto a rock for a better look. There was Icestar, there was Mesquitestripe, and with them, there was a cat he had never seen before. As a hot gust of wind blew toward him, he could even smell that it had been associating with Twolegs. This must be a kittypet. But why would Icestar bring a kittypet here?

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Flatstone!" the leader yowled over the din. "I have an announcement for you all! This fine molly here—"

"Kittypet!" Scorpionpelt shouted.

"_Silence_. This molly has kindly offered, in our time of serious need, to begin warrior training and join our Clan."

There were jeers of disgust and exclamations of shock from the warriors. Copperpaw noticed that Darkpaw's voice went up in protest as well.

"I can understand— I can understand that this breaks from tradition, but in these desperate times—"

"We're not that desperate!" Peccaryfur yelled.

Icestar stood there on Flatstone and waited, staring at the tumultuous crowd below, his eyes narrowing as he waited for the noise to die. Standing beside him, the young molly looked nervous. Her fur was as gray as Smokepaw's, but she was smaller and much fatter, with a dragging belly and a puffy neck. She was shaking, and her fur stood on end. Copperpaw felt bad for her, but then again, she shouldn't have been there.

The Clan was not so willing to calm down as Icestar might have hoped. Bursting to the brim with questions and objections, they continued to yowl, their voices echoing off the rocks and filling the wide open desert sky until the medicine cat emerged from his den. The gruff, dusty tabby was a shabby sight, his fur scruffy, his ears torn, his gait shuffling and stilted. One of his eyes had been blinded long ago, earning him his rename: Deadeye.

Much of the Clan lowered their voices or fell silent as he dragged his paws into their midst. When he spoke, it was in a voice that wavered more than the most precarious balancing rock on the eastern plains: "Icestar is the leader who StarClan has given their blessing. You will listen to him." And then he sat down.

"Thank you, Deadeye," Icestar meowed from his perch.

The tabby grunted.

"Now. You may not like the idea at first, but all I ask is that you give this sweet little cat a chance."

Foxpaw muttered something, but Copperpaw couldn't hear it. The warriors were quiet.

Icestar turned to the newcomer. "It is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Fluffypaw."

_Fluffypaw? Did he hear that right?_

"Your mentor will be Lightface. I hope she will pass down all she knows onto you. Lightface, come forward."

Lifting her head in pride, the pale warrior went up to join him on Flatstone.

"Lightface, you are ready to take on a new apprentice. You received excellent training from Crookedtail, and you have shown yourself to be determined and brave. You will be the mentor of Fluffypaw, and I expect you to pass all you know to her."

Lightface stretched out her neck, and Icestar nudged the new apprentice before whispering that she should touch noses with her. Fluffypaw looked embarrassed as she reached forward and made contact with a stranger's face.

The Clan, too, seemed uncertain. A few warriors amongst them spoke the new name with hesitance. Then, as Icestar turned to them with an expectant look, the chanting gained momentum. "Fluffypaw... Fluffypaw. Fluffypaw! _Fluffypaw! Fluffypaw!_" By then, even Copperpaw had joined in, though it felt strange to say. It was such an odd name.

And then it was over.

"Peccaryfur, Scorpionpelt, Yuccaclaw, you will go out and hunt. Mesquitestripe, you still need to arrange an evening patrol. Thank you, everyone. StarClan bless you all. You are dismissed."

There were still many frowns and confused looks around camp, and Icestar's unusual way of closing the meeting didn't help matters, but at least no one could say he wasn't polite.

"Come on, let's go see the new apprentice," Eaglepaw suggested, and Copperpaw agreed it was a good idea. So they stretched their forelegs down the side of the rock and jumped down before trotting over to see the newly-christened Fluffypaw. She had already dropped down from the Flatstone and was looking all around at everyone as if unsure who she could trust.

Skunkpaw had gotten to her first. "Hi! I'm Skunkpaw!" she blurted.

Fluffypaw shrank away and stared at her.

"Don't worry. I don't actually spray like a skunk."

Eaglepaw laughed. At the sound of him, Fluffypaw spun around and stared at him instead. Now she looked even more nervous, her tail twisting to the side as she crouched low to the ground and licked her nose.

Copperpaw stopped a tail-length or so away and tilted his head. "You look funny."

"Copperpaw, don't be rude," came the voice of Mesquitestripe, his mother, behind him.

He made himself small and apologized. That still didn't change the fact that she had a squashed face, though. Now the deputy was monitoring them. Fantastic.

"Do you want to see more of camp?" Skunkpaw asked.

In a low voice, Foxpaw remarked, "It looks like she wants to see more of Eaglepaw." Nobody but Copperpaw seemed to hear.

Fluffypaw looked back at Skunkpaw, just for a moment, and nodded.

"I'll lead the tour!" Darkpaw declared. "Wait, you still haven't met everyone," she realized. Naturally, they should do some introductions. "You've met Skunkpaw," she began, "and I'm Darkpaw. This is my sister, Smokepaw. That's Copperpaw, the medicine cat's apprentice. You'll learn more about what that means later."

"It means you can't mate with him," Eaglepaw interjected, eager to inform.

"Because he's the most special," Skunkpaw agreed.

"Fox dung. Y'all are embarrassing me," he muttered.

Eaglepaw laughed.

"Hey, come on, we're probably confusing her," Darkpaw pointed out. "Let's go back to simply doing introductions first. That one there is Foxpaw. He can be kind of touchy."

" 'Simply doing introductions'? " Foxpaw echoed, displeased with the commentary.

"See what I mean? He's not so bad once you get used to him, though."

"_Thank StarClan_," he grumbled in mock-relief.

"And that dirt-furred rock-head is Eaglepaw."

"Hey! I'm not the one who's being mean to everyone!" Eaglepaw protested.

"I'm not the one who whines every time they don't get their way!"

"Rut off! You're the last cat Fluffypaw should—"

He was unable to finish his rebuke, however, as his voice was drowned by Darkpaw's laughter.

This time it was Smokepaw who spoke. "What are you laughing at now, Darkpaw?"

"That name," she giggled. "Not even Skunkpaw would come up with something like that." She looked at the new apprentice and added, "I'm sorry, it's not your fault, but... _Fluffypaw_." Her eyes bugged and though she tried to hold her tongue, the laughter burst out of her and she rolled on the ground cackling.

Fluffypaw was beginning to look angry. "At least my name doesn't sound stinky!" she shouted back. It was the first time that she'd spoken.

"Yeah, she's got a point," Skunkpaw interjected, walking between them. "Everyone better watch out! I might stink you up!" She lowered her head and waved her tail and entire rear end in the air in a silly display, and the next thing Copperpaw knew, she was running straight at him. He yelped and ran away. Skunkpaw gave chase, but fortunately, she left him alone just as soon as Fluffypaw began asking questions about the territory.

The other apprentices were all too happy to fill her in.

"Be careful around Rabbit's Patch. That's a big cluster of prickly pear," Eaglepaw warned.

Smokepaw nodded and added, "Further east is where you can find the sandy slopes. There's less cactus there, but the footing is loose and uneven."

"What you really ought to check out is the Eye of Fate," Darkpaw suggested, and Skunkpaw threw in an enthusiastic, "Yeah!"

Fluffypaw looked confused. "What's the Eye of Fate?"

"It's this hole in the rocky overhang that opens up to the sky. It's so big, you can see it from far away. And if you see a crow fly through it, that means you'll have good luck."

Fluffypaw's eyes were the size of runner bird eggs.

"But Darkpaw," Eaglepaw interjected, "how could you tell her about that without telling her about Warrior's Overlook?"

Darkpaw frowned, and admittedly, Copperpaw didn't see the connection either.

"It's not really important," she replied with a shrug.

"Only if you never plan to grow up."

Darkpaw's fur bristled, and Copperpaw could tell Eaglepaw had gotten under her skin with that remark.

Fluffypaw looked between the two of them with a mystified expression, asking, "What's Warrior's Overlook?"

Copperpaw started to answer, "It's just a cliff that—"

"It's where the grown-ups go," Eaglepaw said, lowering his head as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "_With their mates_."

"Nuh-uh. Not all the grown-ups go there." Darkpaw was ever the contrarian.

"Well, Deadeye certainly doesn't," Eaglepaw quipped.

Copperpaw tried to keep his laugh a quiet one so that the warriors wouldn't overhear. Meanwhile, Skunkpaw nudged Fluffypaw and explained, "He's the medicine cat. He can't take a mate."

Before Fluffypaw could ask further questions, though, Mesquitestripe came along again and told them that Skunkpaw and Darkpaw had been assigned to go out and hunt with the warriors.

"See you later, Fluffypaw!" Skunkpaw called as she left. Darkpaw didn't add anything.

Eaglepaw straightened up and brought his voice back up to a normal volume. "Okay, listen," he began, once the two of them were gone. "Let me tell you what it's really like around here."


	5. An Omen

CHAPTER FIVE

Following Nightheart and Junipernose, the two apprentices trotted out into the open desert to hunt. Skunkpaw held her tail high, but Darkpaw was looking far more gloomy as they set out. It was obvious enough for her friend to grow concerned.

"What's the matter, Darkpaw? Don't you like hunting?"

"Hunting's fine," she answered, "but I've got a bad feeling about bringing a kittypet into the Clan."

"Well, she seems nice, so long as you don't make fun of her name."

"It's a stupid name."

"That's not her fault."

Darkpaw gave her a look. "Apprentices shouldn't have names like that," she insisted. "If I were leader, I would pick much better names."

The other apprentice laughed and replied, "You've wanted to be leader since you were a kit."

"So? You've wanted to be a warrior just as long."

"I'm not arguing," Skunkpaw clarified, softening her voice. "You probably won't ever get to be, though, unless you go name yourself leader of CuestaClan."

Darkpaw swatted at her for even suggesting that.

Giggling, her friend dodged and galloped away, leaving Darkpaw to herself as the hunting party split up. Nightheart was heading to Rabbit's Patch while Junipernose walked toward the Twolegplace to look for rats, both trusting the apprentices to manage for themselves. They'd been through enough training by now to be able to hunt on their own. Even though the prey would be scarce out here, Darkpaw decided to linger behind, trudging among a variety of xeric plants as she thought about Icestar's choice. She didn't pay much attention or really look for any prey, lost in thought as she walked. Her paws left sweaty pawprints in the dust, a crust of orange mud forming on the bottom of her pads. This territory was no place to coddle the soft and undisciplined. Sharp, bristling plants were scattered across uneven rocks and layers of minerals, ranging from the thorny mesquite and catclaw bush to the sage and musty chaparral. Clumps of prickly pear cactus hoarded water and guarded it with an army of spines. The explosive shapes of sotol, yucca, and agave spotted the landscape, and the eerie ocotillo canes looked like something not of this world. Juniper trees were uncommon here, broad-branched and low to the ground, and the first one Darkpaw saw today was providing shade to a coiled snake. She stayed far away.

She still didn't understand how Icestar could be so foolish as this, bringing in a kittypet and naming her _Fluffypaw _of all things. If he wanted her to become part of this life, this Clan, a name like that wasn't going to help. Sure, it was an apprentice name, but it wasn't a name worthy of respect. It didn't sound normal, like Smokepaw and Foxpaw. It was... strange. In all the stories about their ancestors, Darkpaw didn't think she'd ever heard a name like that. It wasn't the first strange name she'd ever heard, though.

Her calico sister, the one who had died less than a moon ago, was given the name Skykit when she was born.

_Scorpionpelt told me I was being foolish, naming her that,_ Yuccaclaw had told them one time. She chuckled. _How could I not? It was the perfect name. It takes more than Scorpionpelt's droopy glares to put me off a good idea._

As strange as it was, Darkpaw had to admit that the name fit. Skypaw had been a pale calico, the kind with lighter colors, and her pelt had been a beautiful bluish-gray, marked with white patches and a splash of soft ginger across one half of her face. She looked like a fair morning, when the sun was just rising into the sky and a few small clouds still clinged to the air, before the sunhigh heat would burn them away. Yuccaclaw said some cats thought Mottlestar or Deadeye would rebuke her for using the name, for the sky was home to sacred things like the sun and the moon and Silverpelt—but Mottlestar let it pass, and Deadeye said it was no more blasphemous a name than Nightheart. Perhaps he had known, at the time, what would happen to her. Perhaps StarClan might have told him her fate. Darkpaw had never seen him look surprised about anything. Knowing how protective he was of tradition, she reasoned that clairvoyance was the only way he would have been generous with Yuccaclaw and allowed her to give her daughter such a gaudy name. No one said anything about it after that. Skypaw may have been a strange name, but it was a good name. It suited her.

There was another reason, too, why Darkpaw liked her sister's name. Dead cats could be remembered by Silverpelt, but that was only visible at night. Thanks to Skypaw's name, all she had to do was look up on a clear day to be reminded of her—which was both a blessing and a curse. Even after days without seeing her in the apprentice's den, she still couldn't believe she was really gone. She had always been there with her and Smokepaw, from their first days of life suckling at Yuccaclaw's belly, to practicing their hunting moves and bringing back their first kills, to the solemn day when they had stood together and trembled at the news of war. Darkpaw had never envisioned making it through this without both of her sisters beside her. They were supposed to become warriors together.

The ambush that had sealed her fate couldn't have been predicted, but if that patrol had just been a little more on their guard… If Mesquitestripe had just trained her better—but Skypaw had already been training as hard as she could, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

The drought had driven CuestaClan to brutality in their fighting tactics, tearing throats and chasing after those who fled. When the inevitable day came that Darkpaw faced them in battle, she promised herself, the thought of her sister would ignite a fire in her belly and she would return their viciousness sevenfold.

The dry air was growing hotter, and Darkpaw had spent more time engaging her reflections than pursuing prey. She needed to get going, needed to focus on something else besides her grief before she could become overwhelmed by the memories. Bringing herself down to earth, the apprentice set her mind on scenting the air and searching for something to track so that she'd at least have something to bring back to camp. Eventually, she was able to catch the scent of a woodrat and discover its nest. Darkpaw sank down below the level of the yucca and the sage, wiggling her haunches as she got ready to pounce. The woodrat had emerged from its den and paused, flicking its ears and then looking in her direction. Knowing it would detect her if she hesitated, Darkpaw lunged forward, but it was too late; the woodrat ran just ahead of where her paws landed and took off. Though she followed for a few desperate strides, she knew it was a lost cause. Maybe she could try and track it down again, but it would be far more on its guard.

Darkpaw swatted at the dust in frustration as she looked up and saw Skunkpaw returning on the horizon. Squinting her yellow eyes, she could tell that Skunkpaw was carrying something with her. So her hunt had actually been successful. She didn't know what the molly was carrying, but it stank like a fox.

Skunkpaw dropped the gray thing at her paws and raised her tail when she noticed Darkpaw. "Look what I got!" she called across the distance.

Jealous of her success, Darkpaw wasn't very excited to find out, starting toward her at only a walk. Soon she realized she hadn't been mistaken about the smell.

"I think it must have been abandoned by its mother. It looks like a runt."

Darkpaw had to agree. The dead fox kit couldn't have been very old, but it would make a decent meal for anyone who could stand to eat it. She'd never tried eating a fox before, and she didn't imagine it'd taste very good. "That's creepy," she meowed, looking at it with her whiskers pulled back. "It's a lucky find, though. Extra lucky that you got it before the vultures did. I wonder what it tastes like." She'd leave that to someone else to find out. As for her, she would rather eat a skunk than a fox kit.

"I can't wait to show it to Foxpaw!" Skunkpaw purred with a devious grin.

Darkpaw laughed. "He won't think that's very funny."

"Do you think Smokepaw will?"

"What?"

The patched apprentice shuffled her paws. "Do you think Smokepaw will think it's funny?"

Darkpaw looked up at the sky. "I don't know," she mused. "She doesn't laugh at much. Why do you care anyway?"

"Well—"

"I guess she's more of a challenge, huh?"

"...Yeah."

"Don't worry about her, Skunkpaw. Everyone else thinks you're funny. And even if you weren't, you're a good hunter."

"Yeah, on the days when I find things that aren't already dead," she sighed.

Darkpaw laughed again. "Rut off, you piece of dirt, at least you've got something to bring back."

"Shhh! Junipernose is coming."

The black cat looked confused. "What do I need to hush for?"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

"What—"

"_SHHHH!_"

She was starting to become amused now. "Skunkpaw—"

The other apprentice kept hushing her, and Darkpaw started hushing her back, giggling a little, and they kept going back and forth shushing each other until the two of them were on their sides laughing and hissing "Shhh!" between gasps for air.

Junipernose walked up to them and dropped the rabbit she'd caught, staring at them as though they'd lost their minds. "Just _what_ are you two up to?" she asked, with the bemused air of an adult.

"Shhhh!" Skunkpaw hissed, and Darkpaw laughed so hard she couldn't breathe. Her sides were aching.

"Alright," the warrior replied in a quieter voice, resigned to their silliness. "But we should head back to camp and get some shade. Nightheart's not far behind me." She lowered her tabby head and grabbed the rabbit around the throat once more.

Skunkpaw refused to get up, eying Darkpaw and whispering, "Shhh."

Darkpaw had nothing to fetch, and so there was nothing to prevent her from laughing some more.

Junipernose started walking, then turned around and waited for them. They should have got up and followed her then, but they were having too much fun.

"You two have been out in the sun too long," Nightheart remarked as he appeared.

Skunkpaw made a face.

The black warrior, who was both Skunkpaw's mentor and Darkpaw's father, sighed and sat down. "What are we going to do with you?" He sounded disappointed.

She didn't waste any more time after that. Skunkpaw rolled onto her paws and went to pick up the fox kit, at which Nightheart rose a whiskery eyebrow but gave no further comment. He could already figure that she had found it dead—there was no way to hunt a fox kit while it was still with its mother, not and get away with it.

Darkpaw was a little embarrassed that she had nothing to take with her, but they all needed to get out of the sun and under some shade—even if that meant returning to camp where the kittypet was.


	6. A Secret

CHAPTER SIX

"Hey Copperpaw," Eaglepaw meowed, sitting down next to his brother. "Have you ever, you know, felt kind of differently about a molly?"

Copperpaw lifted his nose from where it had been tucked under his tail, began to uncurl a little, stretching his legs, and asked, "Huh?"

"Well, you wouldn't be able to act on it, obviously, being a medicine cat apprentice," the brown tabby acknowledged, "but have you ever felt like someone was… _special?_"

"I've never thought that about a she-cat, really."

"Really?" He turned to look at him. "You always seem so nervous around... well, all of them."

"That's because they scare me."

Eaglepaw laughed. "Grow up, Cops."

"I'll do my best," he promised. "So what did you ask me about this for?"

"Well..." He kneaded the grit under his paws and glanced around camp. Smokepaw was away showing Fluffypaw where the water was, and the hunting patrol that Darkpaw had been sent on hadn't returned yet, meaning that neither of them was around to overhear. "There's this pretty molly who's caught my eye," he confessed.

"Who is it?"

"Shhh! I'm not telling you!"

"Oh. Okay."

"There's a problem, though. I don't know what to do about it. How do I get her to like me?"

"Well, have you tried being extra nice to her?"

He thought about that. Being nice to Darkpaw could be difficult, since she never seemed to appreciate it. "It's worth a try, I guess."

"Don't worry, Eaglepaw. How could she not fall in love with a great tom like you?"

"I'm sure she'll find a way," he grumbled. "It's just... It's so _frustrating_." His voice got husky as he explained, "I just wanna get my paws up on her shoulders, you know what I mean?"

Copperpaw was looking at him like he couldn't empathize with that at all.

Eaglepaw frowned but added, undaunted, "You'll find someone who does this to you someday."

"If you say so, Eaglepaw. So do you know what you're going to do when she gets back to camp?"

His brother whirled on him. "_How do you know she's out of camp right now?_"

"Well, I—" Copperpaw flattened his ears, frightened by the outburst. "I just assumed it wasn't one of the warriors..."

The brown tabby's fur flattened again as he remembered that all the she-cats his age were outside of camp right now. "Oh. Yeah, it's not one of the warriors." So Copperpaw hadn't really guessed his future mate's identity after all. Relief washed over him like a cool river. Desire for mollies was one thing, but for his brother to know that he felt this way about _Darkpaw_ of all cats would be plum embarrassing. Even though he couldn't help feeling drawn to her, he wished with all his heart she weren't so… out of control. If StarClan looked down kindly on them, and if his destiny carved a smooth path for him, maybe one day she would change—but it didn't seem likely.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Cops. What if she laughs at me?"

"Well, you're not very funny..."

"Hey!"

Copperpaw flattened his ears again. "Sorry, Eaglepaw, I didn't mean it like that. I just mean—why would she laugh? You're brave and strong and everything that I would want to be if I were going to be a warrior."

"Yeah..." He nodded, thinking. If Darkpaw didn't like him back, well then... well then she was just _crazy_. She might play hard to get at first, but deep down she probably really wanted to be his mate. He just had to get her to admit it. Self-assured of that, he started to think through several scenarios and form a plan for how to impress her—all of which was immediately forgotten as soon as he saw her black figure approaching the edge of camp.

Eaglepaw stood with his tail straight up like a spire and galloped over to welcome her back to camp. "Hi! Hi. Hi, Darkpaw. ...Hi, Skunkpaw. Wait, what's that in your mouth?"

Skunkpaw dropped what she was carrying and replied, "Look, birdie! It's a fox kit! I'm going to show it to Foxpaw."

He laughed. "That's a great idea. He'll be so uncomfortable."

Darkpaw, who'd looked taken aback by Eaglepaw's enthusiasm a second before, was now frowning and looking between the two of them. "No he won't. He won't even care. Don't bother."

"Oh Darkpaw, why do you hate fun? Come on!" He trotted off to lead the way, adding, "He's over here," and he looked back over his shoulder, expecting both she-cats to follow. Skunkpaw picked up the fox again and started making her way after him, the weight adding some wobble to the movements of her stocky legs, but Darkpaw remained standing where she was, flicking her tail. Always opposed to ideas that weren't her own—that was Darkpaw. Eaglepaw was torn, wanting to spend time with her, but he wanted to see the look on Foxpaw's face even more. He and Skunkpaw left her behind.

"Hey, Foxpaw. Can we join you?" he asked, coming upon the gray ticked-tabby as he was nibbling on some prey.

"Do I have a choice?" He scowled at them with his narrow face and went back to eating his woodrat. Always grumpy—that was Foxpaw.

Skunkpaw dragged the dead kit up to him and proclaimed, "Look what I got!"

Foxpaw flinched away from it, wrinkling his nose. "That thing stinks."

"_It's a fox kit_," Eaglepaw explained, drawing out the words nice and slow for extra emphasis.

Skunkpaw pushed it into his face, and he pulled his head back away from it.

"What do you think?" Eaglepaw asked.

"Congratulations on not being mauled by its mother." With that, Foxpaw tried to pick up his meal and move away.

"I found it dead," Skunkpaw corrected.

"Hey, where're you going?" The mackerel-tabby followed after him. "You used to be named Foxkit, and this is a fox kit. You're just like each other."

"Except this one's not alive anymore," Skunkpaw added.

"Look, look at his eyes!" Eaglepaw told her, cutting in front of the gray apprentice. "Are you dead inside, Foxpaw?" he sneered.

"Only a little."

"Do you think it's an omen?"

"I hope so."

"Hey," Skunkpaw butted in. "Where's Smokepaw?"

"Oh, she's out drinking with Fluffypaw," Eaglepaw answered.

"What?" She started lashing her tail. "She went without me?"

Eaglepaw glanced over to where Foxpaw had picked up his rat and was walking away. The joke wasn't funny enough to go after him anymore. He gave up on it and looked back at Skunkpaw. "Well, yeah, Fluffypaw was thirsty. What, are you jealous? You can go to the shallow pools yourself any time you want. You're not a kit anymore."

The black-and-white apprentice lowered her head. "I know..."

Whatever was going on in her head, Eaglepaw didn't get it. Even fun she-cats like Skunkpaw were baffling sometimes. Now she was curling up in a ball in the dust, and since she wasn't saying anything funny anymore or coming up with more ideas, he decided to just leave her behind and go find Darkpaw again.

As he passed by where Copperpaw had been sleeping, he noticed that his brother wasn't there anymore—probably in the medicine den or with Deadeye somewhere. Medicine cats and their apprentices were always gathering plants and other weird things for healing purposes, even though it wasn't like he ever got hurt that much. Copperpaw had tried to tell him once that medicine wasn't just for scratches and coughs, that it was also important for keeping away bad spirits, but Eaglepaw had never seen any bad spirits in all his life here. The only kinds of spirits were the spirits of StarClan, as far as he was concerned. Bad spirits were probably just something that Copperpaw had made up to justify what he was doing in the boring times when medicine cats weren't needed.

Darkpaw was easy to find, still at the edge of camp, and at the moment she appeared to be conversing with her mentor, Junipernose. Eaglepaw walked up to them and announced a big friendly hello.

"Oh, hello, Eaglepaw," Junipernose replied. "Have you practiced with Icestar since he became leader?"

"Not yet, but it's going to be great. I get to fight a cat with nine lives." He puffed out his chest. "Do you want to come watch us, Darkpaw?"

Darkpaw narrowed her eyes at him. "Why would I want to watch you practice?" she asked as if confused, but there was an edge of a sneer to her tone.

"I was just trying to be friendly!" Eaglepaw snapped. "Why do _you _have to be so _rude_, Darkpaw? Great StarClan, you're insufferable!"

"Icestar and I could give you a training session together," Junipernose suggested, but by that point Eaglepaw was walking away, dejected and heartbroken. It was almost possible to believe he would never get Darkpaw to like him. However, he hadn't tried everything yet.


	7. Training

CHAPTER SEVEN

All Smokepaw knew about the new apprentice so far could be reduced to the fact that she was very shy. Smokepaw wasn't very outgoing herself, so their conversations were terse and infrequent, both on the trip to the shallow pools as well as on the way back. Skunkpaw was much better at being friendly than she was, so much better at cracking jokes and putting cats at ease. Smokepaw wished that she had her confidence and charm. Maybe then the uncomfortable silences between her and the newcomer wouldn't have been as thick as Fluffypaw's fur.

As they approached camp, Lightface got up from her place in the shade and approached them with quick and purposeful steps. Smokepaw noticed that at the mere sight of her, Fluffypaw's fur was already standing on end.

"That's your mentor," Smokepaw stated.

That didn't seem to reassure her. The poor thing looked awfully nervous.

"Fluffypaw," Lightface began, and though it was a preposterous name, her expression was as serious as stone. "Today will be your first training session. We will evaluate your abilities and refine the basics before we move on to more advanced practice in areas like pounce timing and tracking skills."

Fluffypaw's eyes were as wide as a full moon.

"To serve as an example," Lightface continued, "Smokepaw will be training alongside us today. Smokepaw, go fetch your mentor."

Smokepaw nodded and trotted off, spotting Peccaryfur, a gray ticked tabby, near the ocotillo plant. Her mentor was on her paws before she could get there.

"Hello, Smokepaw. Did Lightface inform you that I'll be training you alongside her today?"

"Yes. I'm ready to go."

"Good. As am I."

As Smokepaw turned around to leave camp, she was reminded of the time Darkpaw had pointed out how blunt she and her mentor were with each other. Her sister had claimed they sounded as gruff and pointed as horned lizards, but to Smokepaw, being direct and to the point was only natural.

Lightface led the group out to a dusty patch of the mesa where the cacti were few and far between. It was a regular training spot, but Smokepaw hadn't practiced here in a long time; these days Peccaryfur had her working on her footing in the sand and honing her balance on the cliffside. A warrior needed to be prepared for all kinds of terrain, not just convenient places where the ground was even and the succulents were sparse, or so Peccaryfur had told her.

"Show me your hunting crouch," Lightface instructed, turning around to face her apprentice.

Fluffypaw stared at her with fear and confusion in her eyes.

"Didn't you hear me?"

The apprentice stood there, quaking in silence, and then wailed, "I don't know how!"

"Crouch," Lightface demanded.

She crouched, but it was the crouch of submission and terror, her ears flattened and her body pressed back to the ground. There was no tightened spring in her joints, no readiness for action. She would never manage a pounce from a position like that.

"Smokepaw, show her your hunting crouch," Peccaryfur commanded.

The gray apprentice lowered onto her lean haunches with her head down, stretched forward, and a slight space between her belly and the ground, her muscles tensed, her gaze staring dead ahead.

"Good. Hold it. Fluffypaw, can you copy what she is doing?"

When Smokepaw chanced a look at her, she saw that Fluffypaw was frozen and staring at her with an expression of awe and hopelessness.

"Every cat has a hunting crouch," Lightface declared. "We are born with it. It is a natural instinct. Surely you have done it before. I'm only asking you to replicate it now."

Peccaryfur stepped in again. "Fluffypaw, look at that butterfly over there."

Fluffypaw looked around, confused, but eventually she caught sight of it, where it was perched atop the center of a firewheel flower.

"Get the butterfly," she whispered.

As easily as water finds an arroyo, Fluffypaw found her hunting crouch, sinking down and preparing her legs to spring. Her eyes fixed on the target and her haunches wobbled as she got ready. Then the butterfly took off, and Fluffypaw pounced, but she landed with empty paws.

The apprentice stood up and yowled in disappointment. "I didn't catch it!" she meowed, turning back to her mentor.

"Of course you didn't. It's a butterfly. Pull yourself together."

Fluffypaw flattened her ears again.

As the training session progressed, Lightface and Peccaryfur had their apprentices perform basic routines to strengthen their muscles, like running from one catclaw bush to the other and jumping onto tall rocks. Each and every time, Smokepaw outperformed Fluffypaw like distant lightning outpacing thunder. Though Fluffypaw was older than Smokepaw in age, they had grown up in different environments—and Smokepaw's had prepared her for this all her life. She didn't speak a word about "beating" her (it wasn't supposed to be a competition—when she and the other apprentices did these exercises, they more or less matched each other's pace) and there was no pride to be taken in being stronger than someone who had only just begun her training, but she could tell that Fluffypaw was getting frustrated. She kept swatting at pebbles as she fell further and further behind and sending Smokepaw some nasty glares, which she chose not to acknowledge. And all that was to say nothing of the fact that the new apprentice was already winded and weezing, laboring to suck in each new breath. They hadn't practiced fighting at all yet. If Fluffypaw were to show her face in battle, Smokepaw knew she would be chased off the battlefield quicker than a rattlesnake strike.

Eventually, Lightface cut the training session short and sent them back to camp while she and Peccaryfur had a talk. Smokepaw was a little tired; Fluffypaw was exhausted. The weaker cat wasn't talking to her anymore either, not even as little as she had done on the way to the shallow pools. Smokepaw wasn't hurt by it, but her belly was churning with mixed emotions. An apprentice like this would do nothing to help them turn the tide of the war. She was nothing like Skypaw, who was strong and clever and fast and died anyway. Fluffypaw was nothing close to an acceptable replacement. Smokepaw had nothing against her personally, and she understood her being upset—in fact, she almost felt bad for hurting her feelings, despite not being at fault—but the only thing that would change now that Fluffypaw had joined them was that the Clan would have that much greater of a need for water. Smokepaw felt like there was a rock sinking in her stomach as she thought about it.

Upon returning to camp, the first cat to greet them was Skunkpaw, cheerful and enthusiastic as always. Or so it seemed at first.

"Smokepaw, you're back! Hi, Fluffypaw!" the patched apprentice exclaimed. "You'll never guess what happened!"

Smokepaw stopped in her tracks and said nothing, since apparently, she could never guess.

"Icestar brought a new cat into the Clan!"


	8. Confession

CHAPTER EIGHT

Smokepaw didn't look excited, but that was because she hadn't heard the best part yet. Instead of asking what Skunkpaw was so happy for, she meowed, "Oh. What's her name?"

"Socks."

"Rocks?"

"No, Socks."

"What are socks?"

Fluffypaw lifted her chin and provided the answer, apparently proud to know something the other apprentices didn't. "They're things that Twolegs put on their paws."

"What an odd name," Smokepaw mused.

Skunkpaw giggled and asked, "Do Twolegs put their kittypets on their paws?"

"Of course not!" Fluffypaw spat, fuming.

Skunkpaw hadn't expected her to get angry, and she fell silent immediately.

"Is Smokepaw made out of smoke?" Fluffypaw demanded, as if to make a point.

"No, but I'm the color of smoke."

"Well, then maybe Socks has markings like socks," Fluffypaw declared, and she walked away toward the fresh-kill pile.

Smokepaw waited only a moment for the new apprentice to be out of earshot before she asked, "Isn't Icestar going to give her an apprentice name?"

Skunkpaw shook her head. "She won't be an apprentice."

"A warrior?"

"Nope."

"Well then wh—"

"She's expecting kits!" Skunkpaw blurted, unable to contain her excitement. She couldn't wait. Her tail was up high and quivering at the base.

"She doesn't even know how to hunt!" Darkpaw interjected. Skunkpaw turned to look at her. The dusky apprentice was stalking up to the group with a twitching tail and a scowl.

"So until she has her kitting, she'll be like an elder," her gray sister surmised.

"I guess. I don't see why she's here taking our food and water if she's not even going to become a warrior."

"She wants her kits to become warriors," Skunkpaw pointed out.

"She could have them at Twolegplace and give them to us then. There's no reason for her to be here, taking up space. She'll never really be a part of the Clan."

"Well, maybe, but we should at least be nice to her, Darkpaw," Skunkpaw advised her. "She's letting us raise her kits with her."

Darkpaw sat down with her tail tip still twitching.

"What about Fluffypaw? She's trying at least."

At that, Darkpaw looked to her sister. "How she do in her training, Smokepaw?"

When Smokepaw was prompted to speak again, she looked hesitant, leaning back with a paw lifted off the ground. Skunkpaw had never seen her look so uncomfortable. She was a stalwart apprentice, tough as a rock, unflinching and steady; she didn't get uncomfortable. And yet there she was with an uncertain paw in the air.

"She... puts forth her best efforts, and she does as much as she can, but... she has much to overcome."

"So what you're saying is she's a rutting flower-tortoise."

Smokepaw said nothing.

"Don't be mean, Darkpaw. She just joined, " Smokepaw pointed out. "Give her a chance."

"This isn't some kit's game we're playing. Cats aren't supposed to just _'join'_ a Clan. Icestar should know better than to bring cats into camp who don't belong."

"He's the leader," Smokepaw stated. "He is older and more experienced than you, and it is not your place to criticize him."

"You're just jealous that you're not the leader," Skunkpaw teased.

So Darkpaw spat back, "Yes, I am!"

Her friends were shocked into silence.

"Icestar is a fool," she hissed, "and his leadership will bring us all to ruin."

Nobody knew what to say to her. She lashed her tail, even more annoyed than before, and turned and trudged away.

Skunkpaw looked at Smokepaw, who was still staring after her, and mumbled, "Not much of an optimist, is she?" She was trying to bounce back from the serious moment and stay light-hearted, but it was hard.

Smokepaw let out a breath and closed her eyes.

"Well, Darkpaw may be grumpy about it, but I'm glad Socks joined."

"Then I am glad for you, Skunkpaw."

The kind words raised her tail, but she shuffled her white paws and lowered her head, her tail tip curling to the side in uncertainty. "Smokepaw, can I tell you a secret?"

"Yes." The gray apprentice looked alert and interested, her beautiful sotol-green eyes focused on her as she promised, "I won't tell anyone."

Her heart began to pound heavy in her chest like the heat of sunhigh. "Well—" She swallowed. "Lightface told me that I... I need to t-take a mate and have kits, but I don't want to. I really don't want to. It just— I don't know, maybe I'm just overreacting. She-cats have been having kits since forever, maybe I'm weird for not wanting to, for— for thinking it's too much for me, but— and I know there are more important things to worry about— but they say the first litter is the most dangerous, and— Smokepaw, _I'm scared_." Skunkpaw couldn't bring herself to mention not wanting to mate with a tom in the first place. She felt like she'd already said too much.

She expected Smokepaw to be confused or annoyed, but instead she looked calm, as always, the perfect picture of refined grace. That perfection, not her doubt, was what tore Skunkpaw up inside.

The gray apprentice raised her eyes to the sky. "Mottlestar always said, a kitting is a battle that no warrior can retreat from."

Skunkpaw fluffed up her fur at the thought, and her voice was trembling as she asked, "So I'm a coward?" Icestar would never make her a warrior if he knew.

"Not at all, Skunkpaw." _Skunkpaw_. She'd said her name. Shaking her head, Smokepaw looked troubled as she reassured her, "I do not remain friends with cowards."

Skunkpaw raised her tail again and smiled, her heart swelling. Smokepaw was the best, the absolute best. _Friends_ didn't feel like a big enough word. Just then, she noticed Lightface returning to camp and blurted, "Wait here. I need to go tell Lightface about Socks."

Lightface came to an abrupt stop as Skunkpaw ran up to her.

"What's all this about?" the warrior asked with suspicion.

"Icestar brought a new kittypet into the Clan!"

Her mother frowned and looked away. What her thoughts were, she did not say.

"But listen, this is the best part: she's carrying kits!"

At that, Lightface turned her head back to face Skunkpaw and growled, "And you think that frees you of your obligations? Skunkpaw, you have always been as dumb as rocks. This kittypet's litter alone cannot provide the next generation. When her kits grow to warriors, who then will they mate with? There must be others. You will still need to bear kits for the Clan."

Though the sun was scorching overhead, Skunkpaw felt frozen and far away.

"Enough of this dirt. Go be social."

Obedient, Skunkpaw started to turn back to return to Smokepaw.

"No!" Lightface snapped, and her daughter flinched. "You've spent enough time with your molly friends. Interact with the toms for once, you useless lump. Look, there's Foxpaw. Go see what he's up to. _Go on_."


	9. Ocotillo

CHAPTER NINE

Copperpaw felt a jolt of nervousness when Foxpaw started toward him, but he didn't have enough time to make himself look busy.

"Hey, Medicinepaw."

Whatever the jerk wanted, there was no avoiding him now.

Copperpaw begrudgingly met his gaze and answered, "What do you want, Foxpaw?"

Foxpaw flattened his ears as if taken aback and gave him a weird look, but his answer was direct. "Herbs, or whatever you've got. My muscles are sore from training," he explained. That didn't come as a surprise—Scorpionpelt seemed like a harsh mentor. "Do you know anything that'll help?"

"Um—"

"Hi guys," meowed Skunkpaw, approaching the two of them from the direction of Flatrock. She looked a little out of sorts, but Copperpaw was too shy to ask her what was wrong. "What are you up to?" she asked.

"I... was... just about to go to the medicine cat den, for Foxpaw here."

"Can I come with you?"

Copperpaw shuffled his paws. "Uh, well, I need to talk to Deadeye, and he's not very..."

"Everyone knows about Deadeye," Foxpaw interrupted. "Just go."

The medicine cat apprentice fluffed up his fur.

Skunkpaw still looked listless, saying, "I don't mind, Copperpaw."

"Why are you so adamant on coming along, anyway?" Foxpaw asked, sounding impatient.

The molly seemed hesitant to reply.

"Hey, don't you start bothering her too. Let's just go." Copperpaw turned and started off toward the medicine cat den.

"_Finally_," he heard Foxpaw mutter behind him.

When they reached the dusty mouth of the den, Copperpaw came to a stop just outside it, spotting the dark shape of his mentor inside. Deadeye was a large, hulking tabby cat, one who might've made a formidable warrior under other circumstances. Copperpaw tucked his tail between his legs as he asked, "Deadeye, are you here today?"

The medicine cat turned his head to look at him, one of his eyes bold yellow, one of them mutilated and sealed over. It was a moment before the big tom answered, rasping, "Yes."

Copperpaw let out the breath he'd been holding. "Do we have a treatment for sore muscles?"

Another "Yes."

Before he could ask, Deadeye continued, "Go to the ocotillo plant and take from it a fresh blossom, to be eaten." When Copperpaw hesitated, still standing in the entrance, the medicine cat added, with a hint of impatience, "It is the tall plant, of thin canes like a lightning strike upward from the earth. It has red flowers."

Although that wasn't what we was wondering (and he already knew what an ocotillo plant was), Copperpaw nodded and went off to look, leaving his mentor's presence. Skunkpaw followed, with Foxpaw lagging behind, the slowest.

"Do you always ask him that? If he's 'there'?" she pressed.

"Don't ask questions," Foxpaw said quickly.

She spun around to face him, shouting, "You're one to talk!"

"Look, do you want help or not?" Copperpaw asked, exasperated. He didn't feel like helping an apprentice who was making a nuisance of himself.

"Are you going to answer her question, then?"

He stopped and turned around. Everyone came to a halt. "Yes. Every time. It's better if you do."

He could see in their eyes that they were buzzing with questions, as many as there were raindrops in a storm, but when neither of them said anything, he assumed he'd put the matter to rest and resumed walking.

The ocotillo plant in camp didn't have any flowers, but it was just a short trek to find another. He left camp and the others started after him. "Stop FOLLOWING me!" he whimpered, looking back at them.

Foxpaw narrowed his eyes. "Want to get snatched up by a coyote, do you?"

"No..." It would be safer to go with others, but he didn't see why warrior apprentices were considered fine on their own. Just because he was training to be a medicine cat didn't mean he wasn't observant.

Skunkpaw trotted up faster. "Don't worry, Copperpaw. If a coyote comes, I'll stand on my front legs and threaten it like a skunk."

"It'll never know the difference," Foxpaw muttered, sounding sarcastic.

Copperpaw shook his head and kept walking. "Thanks, but— oh. Oh, you're both coming along anyway. Alright." He didn't see why they didn't just stay back at camp.

"Do you ever get dreams from StarClan?" Skunkpaw asked.

"No." _And he didn't really want to._ "Deadeye has, though," he added. His mentor was quite opinionated about them.

"You're allowed to tell us about them, right?"

"Huh? Oh—the dreams? He doesn't talk much about what happens in them. I don't think he has them often, either. But I don't think there's any rules about that." Nonetheless, Copperpaw didn't want to say. Medicine cats were in an awkward place, meant to serve as the great bridge between the worlds of living and the dead, but—revered though they were, StarClan was neither omniscient nor monolithic. The medicine cat was the only one who really understood that. Deadeye had unleashed countless scathing diatribes to him in the quiet hours of the night about their shortcomings and indecisiveness. If his mentor was to be believed, the only reason that StarClan was so often silent was because it took them at least a season to even come to an agreement.

Despite his solemnness, he saw that Skunkpaw had already regained the characteristic mischievous look in her eye, starting to speak in the tone he was so used to hearing from her. "Do you think he would say any of the StarClan cats are..."

Foxpaw widened his eyes and leaned away, sensing what was coming. "Oh no. Skunkpaw, how could you—"

"..._dreamy?_"

Copperpaw stopped and turned to look at her. "Skunkpaw, that was just bad."

She was purring to herself.

"You know, your confidence is really unattractive."

"Oh, _a medicine cat apprentice_ thinks I'm unattractive. Let's count the ways that that affects me."

* * *

Later in the evening, Deadeye took Copperpaw out of camp to collect herbs. Sock's litter was expected to arrive before long, and they wanted to prepare enough herbs to be ready. Sage and chaparral leaves, especially. In the fading light, the ginger apprentice trailed after his mentor, picking his way among thorny plants and cacti. The two of them were quiet, focused on hunting down the right plants, but inside, Copperpaw was uneasy. He wasn't sure how far he had progressed in his training, and while it seemed like he had learned a lot since kithood, there were still times when Deadeye treated him as though there were much he did not know. Maybe there were still things to learn, and he didn't want to take on the role of medicine cat by himself just yet, but Copperpaw thought he must be at about the same age Deadeye had been when his apprenticeship ended.

"When do I get my name?" he blurted.

Deadeye stopped and swung his head around to look at him. "When you are ready, you insolent kit."

Copperpaw flattened his ears and crouched down.

Seeing how the smaller cat had responded, his mentor's face softened, and he muttered, as he turned away, "The ceremony's nothing to look forward to. You wouldn't enjoy it anyway."

"But I'll get to see StarClan!" Copperpaw interjected, not meaning to talk back. His tone was confused and pleading, yet excited, with hopeful naivety. "For the _very first time!"_

Deadeye spat and walked on. His apprentice felt there was no choice but to follow, and they'd gone a ways before Deadeye spoke again. "StarClan is nothing but the product of foolishness. There is nothing so exciting about meeting with them."

"But don't you like to see your old mentor?"

Deadeye stopped again, and Copperpaw wondered if he'd done something wrong by asking.

"Yes," he rasped, "It is... nice... to see Whiteflower again, when she presents herself. But you don't get to choose who comes to you. If it were up to me, I would see her and only her."

That made Copperpaw curious. Whiteflower, the medicine cat before Deadeye, had died before the young Copperpaw could meet her, and he knew very little of her but that she had taught Deadeye everything he knew. "What was she like?" he asked.

"What was she like?" his mentor echoed, but he was quick to answer. "She was... born... different, from all of us. She was white, pure white, and had pinkish blue eyes, like the pale rash of the sky at dawn. She could not stand too much sunlight, had very poor eyes, and kept to the medicine den as much as she could. And despite being a medicine cat, she was flirtatious. Very flirtatious. Even with the mollies." He paused, remembering. "_Especially_ the mollies." He went on. "She could be moody and rash, sometimes. She was selfish, and proud, and sometimes even vulgar."

Copperpaw tilted his head, confused. "But I thought you liked her."

"The presence of flaws does not indicate the absence of virtues, Copperpaw. Whiteflower was a good medicine cat and a caring, protective Clanmate, wise, experienced, and knowledgeable of many things. But her strange condition meant she could not live a long life. She... she died, not long, it seemed, after I had been apprenticed to her." He lowered his head, a cold look in his eyes. "I couldn't have prevented it." With that, he continued walking. "You could be as good a medicine cat as her one day, if you study hard."

Copperpaw followed after him, his imagination filled with thoughts of this mysterious medicine cat named Whiteflower, someone he had never known but whom Deadeye held in high esteem. He tried to imagine what she would have been like, and if he met her in StarClan, whether she would like him.


	10. The Promise

CHAPTER TEN

Skunkpaw watched Lightface head out of camp before crawling down from her perch on the cliffside. The sun had long ago gone down, but her feline eyes found it easy to adjust to the darkness. MesaClan camp was as active as ever, with warriors speaking in mellow tones, washing fur, and sharing prey as the soft hoots of an owl could be heard in the distance. Skunkpaw navigated through her Clanmates and trotted along in search of Smokepaw.

The solid gray apprentice had just curled up and was about to lay her head down when Skunkpaw approached.

"Hey, uh—"

"Skunkpaw?" Her expression was unreadable, but her ears and whiskers were pointed forward toward her friend.

"Heh, yeah, that's me… I…" The smaller apprentice shuffled her paws and then began to knead. "I was wondering if, maybe, uh, you'd want to go on a walk with me."

"Out of camp?"

"Yeah."

Smokepaw pushed herself up with her forepaws and then fully stood.

"…So you'll go with me?"

"Can't simply leave you to the coyotes, now can I?"

Skunkpaw's smile was shy and hesitant, and together, the two apprentices set out into the night.

Although she had in mind a place for them to go, she didn't want to say it, not yet. For now, she simply watched where she was going as she gathered her nerve.

Alongside their path, they passed by limestone outcroppings and large chunks of rock that had long ago fallen from the side of the mesa. A gentle breeze of cool, dry air brought many scents to Skunkpaw's nose—among them, the smoky, acrid, tar-like smell of creosote, the fresh and bright scent of clapweed, and the resinous fragrance of firewheel flowers. Skunkpaw breathed deep and continued on.

Many of the desert's plants were in bloom tonight. The chaparral had shown its tiny flowers, and even tinier sprouts had emerged from the clapweed, whereas the thick and vivid blooms of the ocotillo plants, clustered at the ends of spindly stalks, towered overhead as the she-cats walked past. Even the prickly pear cacti had flowered, with thin, yellow petals forming a cupped rosette. Wildflowers, too, blanketed the ground: firewheel, long-headed coneflowers, and tender globemallow. Other plants were still at rest; the spiky shapes of sotol, yucca, and agave appeared in their usual way among the allthorn, patchy grasses, and the tarbrush, all under a wide-open sky full of stars and the fattened half-moon.

Skunkpaw lowered her gaze from the sky and glanced back to make sure that Smokepaw was still following her.

She was.

A moment later, Skunkpaw glanced back around her other shoulder. Then she got a little ahead and checked again.

"I'm still with you, crowfood."

The smaller apprentice raised her tail. Then, with a grin, she sped up to a trot. When she glanced back, she saw that Smokepaw had started trotting to keep up with her.

She faced forward and broke out into a run. Smokepaw would be right on her heels, she knew. Her heart soared with giddy excitement as she dodged and weaved through succulents and bushes, kicking up dust from the pivot movements of her paws, racing among the thorny foliage as fast as her agile body would take her. Just as she reached a patch of chalky soil and was about to bolt into a straight sprint, she hit the ground under the sudden force of another cat's weight. Smokepaw had tackled her.

Skunkpaw rolled sideways and put up a hearty fight, and the two tussled and batted each other with sheathed claws, writhing and giggling in a whirl of fur and limbs and breathless exertion, bodies locked together, paws beginning to sweat and blood beating close under the skin in excitement, until Smokepaw got her by the neck, and Skunkpaw cried uncle.

In response to her surrender, Smokepaw gently let go, stepped back, and began washing the patched molly's head.

Skunkpaw had stopped giggling, but her spirit still felt bright. Her heart was pounding faster than a runner bird's pace. Even now, she found herself in awe of Smokepaw's beauty, here in the dark and the dust and feeling her rough tongue pass over her fur. If Smokepaw had asked anything of her in that moment, she would have given it.

A few seconds passed, with Skunkpaw taking the time to recover her breath, and then she declared aloud, "I want to go to Warrior's Overlook." The words were out of her mouth before she could think them through.

Without hesitation, Smokepaw replied, "Then I will come, too."

Skunkpaw couldn't believe it.

The gray apprentice looked down at her with eyes the color of sotol, head tilted downward below the level of her angular shoulders, flanks rising and falling with her shallow breaths, whiskers directed forward in a show of interest, and told her, "You're not going to be able to walk there if you don't get up."

Purring, Skunkpaw rose to her paws and accompanied her dearest Clanmate on the trail. After a steep, exhausting climb, they made it to the bare and open cliff that was meant to be off-limits to those who had not yet reached adulthood.

"We're here," Smokepaw said.

The two of them looked out over the edge. Stretched out below them lay the desert they had known and hunted in all their lives, with Twolegplace and the arroyo lying in the distance. From up here, it all looked quiet and small and hazy, so far beneath the height of their paws. The view made Skunkpaw feel almost as if she had left MesaClan behind, like she had gone off to run away with Smokepaw as her sole companion. Although she would never want to leave her friends and family like that, the brief thought gave her a rush, a thrill of illicit excitement.

She turned to Smokepaw and looked at how she was sitting—upright, motionless, but with an air of tranquility about her.

Skunkpaw leaned over and smeared her cheek against her in a show of affection, and Smokepaw responded with the same, making the smaller she-cat purr louder than a beehive. Her lithe body felt so nice against her pelt, and her heart felt like it was full of fireflies.

After a few moments, the black-and-white molly lowered herself down and curled up, intending to nap for a while. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace, in a state of quiet joy like she had rarely known.

The coyotes would be roaming the desert at this time of night, and neither of them was completely safe up here, but grown cats were usually fine as long as they stuck together. With a bolt of concern, Skunkpaw raised her head and looked for Smokepaw at her side, asking, uncertain, "Will you stay with me?"

With an intent look and warm breath, Smokepaw swore, "Come heat or high water."


	11. The Gathering

A/N: Late. Whups.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Darkpaw was informed that she could attend the Gathering that moon, she was more worried than excited. Her first concern was that CuestaClan wouldn't show—that they'd wait for half the mesa's warriors to head off, and then use that as their chance ambush the camp while they were away. The concern was still a pressing thought on her mind when the night of the Gathering arrived, but it was only then that she realized that this would also be the first gathering since Mottlestar's death, the first gathering with their new leader, and the first time for the other Clans to learn about what Icestar had done.

Hopefully, he wouldn't spill too much information in his announcements. The Gathering may have been time of truce, but the war would still be on just as soon as this night was over. There was no sense in giving updates to your enemies. That was, if they were even there to hear. She continued to worry that CuestaClan might use this night as an opportunity for an ambush, as dishonorable as that might've been. These were desperate times.

The journey to Threestones was quiet, and Darkpaw's pelt was prickled with anxiety the whole way. To her surprise, however, the cats of CuestaClan were already there. Their leader, Willowstar, was perched on the outcropping of rocks, washing a paw; she put it down and watched the cats of the mesa as they padded down into the valley to join the Gathering. Redstar, who belonged to the cats of the arroyo, was also there, conversing with his deputy.

There were whispers as Icestar headed forward and leapt up to join the other leaders, and as Darkpaw looked to the cats crowded below, she realized they must be looking for Mottlestar. Once the cats of MesaClan had integrated into the crowd, though, the whispers decreased, and a low hum of civil discussion rose once more. This wasn't Darkpaw's first Gathering, so she didn't hang back with the warriors she knew, instead boldly walking among the strangers, having a look at all the unfamiliar pelts and scanning their numbers in the dark. Along the way, she spotted Goldpaw, a handsome arroyo cat she'd met before, conversing with some other apprentices. Darkpaw thought he was nice and good-looking, big sunny tabby that he was, but he couldn't compare with Foxpaw. That wily apprentice back home beat out every tom she'd ever seen (and she'd seen some good-looking toms), though not for strength or the breadth of his whiskers. Foxpaw was a rather odd-looking cat, yet that made him all the more a mouse for the eyes, with his narrow face, ringed tail, and black paws blended with a variegated coat of smoky gray, white, and black furs, speckled as fine as grains of sand, just like the gray fox of the south.

Darkpaw's train of thought was interrupted as Copperpaw passed by in front of her, and her ears felt warm with embarrassment. She quickly diverted her attention elsewhere, watching Copperpaw to see where he was going. He didn't join any conversations, though, just came to a hesitant stop and sat down, seeming to be staring at another apprentice from CuestaClan that she happened to know was called Dustpaw, looking as though he was thinking about approaching him. That was strange. Dustpaw was training to be a warrior, like her, and he was also an enemy of MesaClan while their clans were at war, so there was no reason for Copperpaw to interact with him at a gathering, except to be awkward. She saw Copperpaw look away a few times, but in the end his gaze always seemed to be drawn back to the same dust-brown tabby.

"You ain't thinking of starting a fight, are you?"

Copperpaw nearly jumped out of his fur at the sound of her voice.

"Sorry for startling you."

"No, I— Why would you _ask_ that?"

"You were staring at one of the CuestaClan apprentices."

"No I wasn't!"

Darkpaw blinked at him, unimpressed with the transparent lie. "Deadeye's madness is starting to rub off on you," she remarked. Then she turned and flicked her tail, saying, "C'mon, let's go talk to some ArroyoClan cats before you do something weird."

Copperpaw followed her without further comment, and she came upon a pair of young apprentices from ArroyoClan, a ginger tom and a calico.

"What are you all talking about?" Darkpaw asked in a friendly voice.

"Warrior names!" replied the calico. "What do you think your warrior name will be?"

"I hope mine's Goldheart," Goldpaw interjected. "'Heart' shows a noble mind and a good disposition."

Darkpaw thought his opinion of 'heart' was kind of off, but she didn't say anything.

Copperpaw sat down across from him and suggested, "You look like a lean cat. What about something for speed? Like 'rush'?"

Goldpaw looked at him and made a face. "_Rush?_" he echoed.

The calico next to him sighed dreamily and said, "I hope I get 'Specklestream.' Only very honorable, graceful warriors get 'stream'—like the great Ravenstream."

"I'm not going to be a warrior, so technically I won't get a warrior name, but I think it'd be nice to get 'whisker'," mewed Copperpaw. "It shows attention to details. That's a good trait for a medicine cat."

"_I_ hope I get named Darkclaw."

Everyone turned to look at her.

"It's a good name!" she insisted.

Goldpaw responded with a patronizing smile. "Yeah, but… don't you think that's a little…?"

"A little what?"

Specklepaw answered for him. "There's not a single warrior who's gone bad who hasn't had 'claw' in their name."

"Besides," Goldpaw agreed, "for a she-cat, it sounds too aggressive."

Darkpaw stood up and arched her back, all her fur rising on end. "I'll show you aggressive!"

"Darkpaw! The full moon! Remember, there's a truce!" Copperpaw warned her.

The dark apprentice hissed at them all, but she saw no choice but to heed his words. Still furious, she slowly turned to walk away.

She hated having to be the one to back down.

Angling her ears toward Threestones, she overheard someone finally note the obvious.

"I see that Mottlestar has not joined us tonight," observed Willowstar in a measured tone.

"You are correct. Shall I speak first?" Icestar looked to the others for an answer.

"On the contrary, I would prefer to do that myself," replied Redstar, the leader of ArroyoClan, and Icestar nodded his assent.

And so Redstar began to make his announcements, but Darkpaw was hardly listening, too anxious about what Icestar was going to say—and the next thing she knew, the time had come for the leader of MesaClan to speak.

Icestar did not hesitate to say it. "Mottlestar, our great leader, has passed away for the ninth and final time. With StarClan's blessing, I have taken on the mighty name of Icestar and now provide leadership for the cats of the mesa."

The cats beneath him were silent. Darkpaw had tensed even more at his words, though she could not place what it was about them that bothered her.

"May StarClan grant me the wisdom to fulfill the duties of my new rank with benevolence and grace. I am honored to have received this responsibility."

Darkpaw wished he would just get on with it.

"Many blessings have already come our way this past moon," he continued, which Darkpaw presumed was a tacit allusion to the last battle they'd won. "We are pleased to announce that the mesa has a new apprentice—"

"How can this be?" challenged Willowstar, interrupting his sentence. "MesaClan has not announced any new litters since many seasons ago." Although she didn't say it, it was clear from her tone that she meant to accuse Icestar of lying.

Despite the yowls of contention from below, Icestar chuckled as though at ease. Watching him, Darkpaw felt her pelt prickle with anger.

Icestar flicked his tail to call for silence and began his answer. "It is true, O Willowstar, that our newest apprentice was not born within our Clan." That revelation was met with gasps of surprise, but that was nothing compared to what came next when he explained, "She joined MesaClan just a few sunsets ago, after leaving her home with the Twolegs."

The crowd became its noisiest yet.

"A kittypet!" several cats exclaimed.

Willowstar nodded her understanding. To Darkpaw, it almost looked as though she were smiling. The leader of CuestaClan made no further objections, satisfied with what she had just learned of the enemy's new tactics.

The black-furred apprentice felt nothing but shame. All around Threestones, there where loud whispers and muffled peals of laughter. It was one thing to adopt a kit from Twolegplace. It was another thing to bring in a half-grown cat and expect them to be disciplined and loyal. Darkpaw couldn't think to imagine what their reaction would be if they knew that Fluffypaw was older than most of the other apprentices—old enough to be a warrior already, if she'd been born in the clans. As she looked to the warriors of her clan, she saw their eyes cast downward, their faces trying to be discrete about their embarrassment, but she could tell their pride in themselves and their leader was gone from their eyes.

"No matter her previous background, Fluffypaw—"

Snorts and whispers surged among the crowd as soon as he'd said the name. Darkpaw was cringing.

"Fluffypaw is certain to become an accomplished warrior as any of us."

"No doubt," Willowstar agreed.

Icestar's bright smile was oblivious.

Darkpaw didn't pay much attention to the announcements after that. Her Clan was a laughingstock, and now CuestaClan would know that they were truly desperate for warriors. The thought made her belly churn with dread. Willowstar would take this as a sign of weakness and use it to strategize a new attack, she was sure, and all because lousy Icestar was too proud to keep his mouth shut. In fact, this whole problem wouldn't be happening if it weren't for him. He was the one who'd started doling out invitations to mediocre kittypets in the first place. She wished he had never become leader of MesaClan, but unfortunately, there was no way to get rid of him now.


	12. A Gut Feeling

CHAPTER TWELVE

Icestar and Eaglepaw circled each other, gazes locked in a mutual confrontational stare as they matched each other's slow, deliberate pawsteps. Then the white warrior launched himself at the apprentice to attack, and Eaglepaw reared back and swiped at him with sheathed claws.

"Ohh, you got me!" Icestar wailed, falling down in the dust, and Eaglepaw laughed triumphantly as he pounced on him and continued to play. As his mentor, Icestar had always been like a father to him, and Eaglepaw loved their training sessions together, but it was even more incredible to be his apprentice now that the warrior had ascended to leadership of the whole Clan.

"I'm proud of you, Eaglepaw. You're fixing to make a great warrior someday."

Icestar always said things like that. Eaglepaw nodded and sat up, his thoughts drifting on to other things. He would become a great warrior, of course, but he had more plans for his life than just rising in rank.

"Is something troubling you?" Icestar asked.

Lots of things were troubling him. For now, he decided to focus on just one. "I'm proud of you too, Icestar," he replied, his eyes shining with painful earnestness, "You've done only good for the Clan. But I worry that not everyone feels the same way." He paused, hesitating, then said, "One of the apprentices, in particular, has said some bad things about you."

The leader was listening. Eaglepaw could tell he valued what he had to say and was waiting for him to say more. Icestar's ears were pricked forward, and his bright, round eyes, as green as lecheguilla, looked ready to believe him.

"It's Darkpaw," he confessed.

"Ahh." Icestar nodded knowingly. "I've been keeping an eye on her."

The tabby felt emboldened to say more. "She's always wanted to be leader, you know. She's ambitious. She wants power. I think she's angry that Mottlestar died when she did, and jealous that you got to be leader before her."

"Yes, it's unfortunate that we do not always get to achieve every goal in life, but that is the way of things."

"I think she's dangerous," Eaglepaw insisted, since Icestar didn't seem to be getting what he was implying.

Icestar sat up from where he'd been laying and studied him with a careful expression. "Do you think she's going to try anything serious?"

"She might."

"Do you have any reason to believe so?"

"Just... the fact that she's ambitious, and... I have a gut feeling, okay? If Deadeye gets any ominous prophecies, you can bet all the prey in MesaClan territory that Darkpaw will be in it. I swear on StarClan, I just know that cat is going to cause trouble. I'm hoping she'll settle down, soften up, and become a nice, gentle molly who cares for others, but I don't think that's going to happen."

Icestar nodded. "Let me know if anything develops."

"I will, Icestar. I'm loyal to you and I always will be."

Icestar purred. "Even if you're right about her, I see a bright future for MesaClan ahead. I have many plans in store for us."

"Tell me!"

"This much I can tell you: in several days, I hope to have secured us another new warrior from Twolegplace. He's a strange-looking fellow with a narrow face and brown markings on his muzzle, paws, and tail. I haven't spoken to him yet, but I intend to entice him by explaining that if he joins us..."

Eaglepaw's attention drifted again as he pictured Darkpaw, bleeding and battered, put in her place by Icestar and MesaClan's warriors foiling her attempted takeover. Afterward, she would be so shaken and so ashamed, so thirsty for acceptance from the Clanmates she had betrayed, that she would come crawling to Eaglepaw and beg for his companionship, apologizing for every harsh word she'd ever said to him and confessing a long-hidden attraction to him that she had always tried to deny. Seeing her pitiful state, he would have mercy on her, and she would be elated and grateful to become his mate, crouching down low in the soft dust of Warrior's Overlook and twisting her tail to the side as he approached her from behind—

"Does that sound good to you?" Icestar asked.

"Yeah."

He'd hardly been paying attention, but Icestar had no idea, smiling and saying, "Wonderful! I'll seek him out after we're done training for the day." He paused, then, looking at him carefully, and tilted his head. "Eaglepaw?"

"Yes?"

"You're really worried about her, aren't you?"

He hung his head. "...Yes."

"It's going to be alright," the white warrior assured him. "Darkpaw may be moody, but she has a good head on her shoulders. We can talk some sense into her if need be. And, in the worst case scenario, if she's past the point of reason..."

Eaglepaw looked up.

"...You are a strong and loyal warrior, and we will have others on our side. You have nothing to fear." Icestar touched noses with him and purred his encouragement.

That made Eaglepaw feel a little better, but he couldn't help feeling anxious in case—just in case—Icestar could be wrong. What if they couldn't get her to back down, even with force? What if Darkpaw was so consumed by ambition and disloyalty that she had to be killed?

If that happened, MesaClan would be safe, but he'd never get to be her mate. His heart ached at the thought. Her sister was pretty, but it wouldn't be the same. His heart belonged to Darkpaw, irrevocably, eternally, and he wanted to have her more than anyone, he wanted her to love him, he wanted her to please him, he wanted the satisfaction of his plans falling into place, he wanted the thrill of taming someone headstrong and wild, and he wanted her to have his kits. He would be a good father, he thought. A father like Icestar. And he'd be a good mate, too. He'd take her to Warrior's Overlook all the time, and she would love it. He had it all thought out.

Now all he had left to do was to get her to see things the same way.


	13. The Battle

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Smokepaw trailed after her mentor and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, even though the vigilance was unnecessary. They had not reached the border yet. Scorpionpelt had picked Foxpaw and Eaglepaw to go on the patrol with them, which was more than enough cats, but patrols needed to be extra prepared during wartime. Everyone needed to be extra prepared during wartime.

Overhead, soft, whispy clouds were visible drifting through the Eye of Fate, a hole in one of the rock formations that extended from the mesa. Junipernose had once told her that it would bring good luck if you saw a crow fly through it, and so Smokepaw looked for one, just in case. Today, there were only clouds—thin clouds, not enough for rain. Smokepaw wondered whether praying to StarClan would help at all, then decided against it. If StarClan could work miracles, then they would have let Skypaw live.

Ahead of her, Scorpionpelt gave a quiet sigh as the shallow pools came into sight, currently one of the few sources of water on MesaClan territory. This would be the patrol's opportunity to drink before continuing the journey around their territory's borders. It was just a routine task. Smokepaw could not relax, however. The fur on the back of her neck stood on end as she noticed something move in the distance—possibly a fox or an armadillo.

"I smell CuestaClan," Peccaryfur warned.

Scorpionpelt turned to Foxpaw and stopped him from taking a drink, shoving him back with his shoulder and saying, "Go back to camp and warn them."

The apprentice hesitated.

"_Now!_"

The stern order sent him running.

In the stillness that followed, Smokepaw sniffed the air. She smelled it too. But they weren't close enough to the border for that to make sense, unless—

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a band of CuestaClan warriors emerged from over the hill, outnumbering the small MesaClan patrol. Standing stock still, they stared down at their enemies from about fifteen tail-lengths away, and though the slope was not a steep one, the fact of the matter was that the CuestaClan cats were occupying higher ground. They had the advantage.

Smokepaw's pounded in her chest as she remained rooted to the ground.

The warriors beside her had already hissed a warning, and the two sides stood glaring at each other, thrashing their tails and sending up a chorus of eerie, slow, discordant yowls. The purpose of a standoff was to convince the other side to back down without a fight, but there was little hope of the MesaClan cats convincing the intruders to do that, and it was up to the warriors in their patrol to decide when—not if—to surrender. For the time being, they held their ground, and so Smokepaw held her ground too.

The cats across from them, hackles raised and fanged bared, included warriors Smokepaw recognized from past Gatherings, calicos and grey tabbies and one spotted black and white. There were too many of them, too many to take on with just two warriors and two apprentices. Smokepaw remained as motionless as stone, ears flat and muzzle wrinkled in a snarl, staring at the CuestaClan cats in a cold fury. The implied threat of the patrol's force combined was not enough to scare them, no matter the formidable noise she made.

Beside her, Scorpionpelt lifted a paw and took one single, small step back, and the CuestaClan cats attacked. The closest of them launched themselves forward at the patrol, the others following close behind, and Smokepaw had just enough time to see Peccaryfur bowled over by a larger warrior before she herself was tackled by a tom twice her age. Locked into a tussle, she tried to brace her forepaws against him and struggled to break free as they lay on their sides together, their back legs thrashing in a mutual effort to rake their claws against each other's bellies. Smokepaw managed to bite him and wriggle loose of his grasp, then immediately spun and threw herself at a more manageably-sized young warrior who had looked as though she were about to pounce on Eaglepaw.

Catching the CuestaClan molly by surprise, she sank her teeth into her shoulder, tasting blood, as her opponent tried to roll onto her side. Smokepaw dislodged but then attacked again, this time faced with the calico's extended claws as she lay defensively on the ground. It was Smokepaw's deft training that allowed her to be quick and lock the molly into a tussle with her anyway, dauntless enough to spring past her claws and grapple her into a fighter's embrace with her forelegs as she slashed with the claws of her back legs, digging into the soft, vulnerable belly that her opponent failed to protect and making her give an oscillating yowl of pain. As the calico devoted her attention to escaping the tussle and blocking Smokepaw's thrusts with defensive, blocking thrusts of her own, Smokepaw took hold of her head in her sharp claws and bit into her face, not bothering to aim anywhere particular in the flurry of battle—but just then she felt another warrior pounce on her from behind, getting his fangs around the back of her neck, and she had to whirl around in an attempt to stop him from killing her then and there.

The pain was too much, too immediate, and now the calico from before was ganging up on her with this black-spotted tom. As she writhed and lashed out in defense, they took advantage of every weak spot she left open, the heavy tom retaining some grip on her ruff as he pulled her back onto her haunches, holding her prisoner with his claws in her sides, while the calico, facing her, raked her claws over the soft, gray belly that had been exposed, taking cruel revenge and making Smokepaw yowl in unbearable pain, blood welling under her attacker's claws, every attempt to wriggle free only worsening her wounds as their claws twisted deeper into her flesh. The warrior behind her readjusted his hold and tried to sink his fangs into the crucial tissues of her throat. Incapacitated and helpless, Smokepaw wondered if she would join StarClan this way.

Then the weight on her back seemed to fall away. Peccaryfur had tackled the tom and knocked him aside. The shouts torn from gray warrior's throat were loud and unmistakable. "_Retreat, MesaClan! Retreat!_"

Smokepaw no longer tried to fight. As soon as she was free, she twisted away and bolted, fleeing with the rest of the patrol of the safety of camp.

Behind them, she could hear the CuestaClan cats begin to send up a chilling yowl of victory.


	14. Aftermath

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Skunkpaw's eyes widened as she saw Smokepaw limping into camp behind the other members of the patrol. She had already heard the news about CuestaClan's attack, but she had not expected to see her best friend all torn apart, her steps faltering and her fur matted with blood. Wave after wave of horror pulsed through her heart. Smokepaw, her dear Smokepaw, had been mutilated as if by a coyote. It was hard to comprehend that other cats had done this, or that what she was seeing was reality at all, and not some sudden, twisted nightmare that come over her in her sleep. Smokepaw looked like she was on the verge of unconsciousness. Quivering with dread, Skunkpaw felt a terrible flicker of doubt that she might not recover.

She couldn't stand to think such thoughts. Besides, she assured herself, if the medicine cats were quick enough—

_Where was Copperpaw?_ "Copperpaw!" she screamed, spinning to catch sight of him. "_COPPERPAW!_"

He wasn't far away. Copperpaw looked startled, stopping in his tracks, and set down some herbs beside his brother to mumble with a bewildered expression, "Icestar wanted me to tend to Eaglepaw first—"

"_Have you seen him?_ He's _fine!_ Come on!" she demanded. In fact, he was in such good condition that Skunkpaw suspected he must've started retreating from the battle sooner than Smokepaw did.

"But I can't—"

"_Smokepaw needs you more!_" she bellowed.

He had better not argue. It was worth disobeying their leader just this once. It was a necessity, an emergency. There wasn't time to spare.

Smokepaw had collapsed just short of the shade, sinking down on her side, purring through her pain and too exhausted to even wash her wounds. Skunkpaw dashed to her side and began doing it for her while Copperpaw took his sweet time in reaching them.

"How bad does it look?" Skunkpaw asked as he got nearer.

"Uh... It looks pretty bad..."

"Can you help her?"

Copperpaw nodded and flicked his tail. "Don't worry, I've trained for this. Just keep washing her."

Skunkpaw went back to licking Smokepaw's fur, tasting the minerals of her friend's blood. She felt sick to her stomach. This couldn't be real. She didn't want this to be real. If it were real, then they would be just another story, just another story that ended with "and then she died." But there had to be a future ahead of them. She needed her, she just _needed_ her. They had to get their warrior names and grow up together and play with their Clanmates' kits together and grow old together. Skunkpaw couldn't bear to do any of that without her. She desperately needed Smokepaw to be okay. Seeing her like this, she couldn't help thinking back to all the time she'd wasted, all the free moments and missed opportunities she'd had to tell her what she felt toward her, and how their single night spent together might be the only one like that they'd ever get to have, and all the things she could have done differently if she'd known how soon a day like this would come—a day when she found herself helplessly looking upon the stomach-turning injuries of the strong, noble she-cat who had for so long held a special place in her heart.

She was so stoic and so kind and so elegant and so incredible and so skilled and so dedicated and so beautiful and so perfect and there was so much blood, there was so much blood, _poor Smokepaw, her dear Smokepaw_, she didn't deserve something like this. Skunkpaw felt like her heart was being torn from her chest.

"You have to live. _You have to live_, do you hear me?"

"Skunkpaw, I need you to move," muttered Copperpaw.

Skunkpaw moved, but she wouldn't stay quiet. "You have to live! We both have to live! They never live, do you hear me? Cats like us, they always die first! We can't let that happen to us too! _You have to live!_"

She was fairly sure Copperpaw had no idea what she was talking about, but it was better that way, and besides, the words weren't meant for him. He was a medicine cat, anyway. He'd never get a chance at something like this.

"Stay with me. Smokeplaw, please." Her voice was breaking. She didn't understand how Copperpaw could be so calm. Smokepaw needed his medicine, but at the same time, Skunkpaw almost didn't want him there while this was happening. "Stay with me," she begged.

Smokepaw slowly turned her head in order to meet her gaze, her eyes hazy and unfocused, clouded with pain, but she still showed enough determination to direct her ears toward Skunkpaw and wheeze in reply, "Come heat or high water."


	15. The Moontree

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Moontree was the Clan's name for a sacred site in ArroyoClan territory, an old, gnarled juniper tree, taller than most, that had died long ago upon being struck by lightning. Standing as a testament to the skies' ability to give life and to take it away, it bore a charred scar along the length of its trunk, leaving exposed the smooth surface beneath. Its branches were bald and barren, and vultures, those birds which communed with death, frequented the site as a favorite perch. Stretching out and upward, the tree seemed to claw for a piece of the sky, and in the evening, when the timing was right, its branches looked like they were reaching for the moon. For these reasons, the Moontree was a deeply spiritual location where leaders and medicine cats went to seek audience with StarClan.

Deadeye hated visiting the place.

He made no secret of that sentiment as he led Copperpaw through the rocky land of ArroyoClan territory, rambling on about how StarClan was not the wise, perfect, united Clan that so many believed it to be. Copperpaw had heard him go on about this subject before: StarClan was not some well-functioning egalitarian council who deserved uncritical reverence. They could have appeared to the living more often, or done many more things, if they had wanted, but that sort of thing took unanimous agreement, which was something they were not able to come to often. That was one thing that Deadeye couldn't stand—indecision. StarClan was rife with it.

However, he was never as harsh on them as Mottlestar had been. As medicine cat, Deadeye had long filled the role of sole messenger between StarClan and MesaClan; he felt like that put him in a tight position, being accountable to both of them—and that made it all the more frustrating for him when either one was out of touch with the other. None of the warriors understood what StarClan was truly like, and too much of StarClan was caught up in its own squabbles and mixed loyalties to come together for necessary action. The living tried to comfort themselves with the thought that when StarClan was silent, it was for the best, but Deadeye knew that the official stance of StarClan was more often than not the result of deadlock. They were irresponsible, unreasonable fools, Deadeye had always told him, no better than the living, and twice as tricky and evasive, their celestial powers no use to anyone but themselves, and aside from granting extra lives to those they deemed worthy (really, just whoever was next in line), they were nothing special. Deadeye had spoken with them enough times that he now found their antics boring, if not irksome, and he tried to convince Copperpaw not to get his hopes up.

Copperpaw was excited anyway. He'd never had dreams sent from StarClan before, just normal dreams about all sorts of non-prophetic, unlikely things like fighting in battle and mating with toms, and he was looking forward to the experience. What would it be like? Who would he see? The apprentice could barely contain himself, bounding along ahead of his mentor with his tail in the air. "Will you be with me, Deadeye? Are we going to share a dream together?"

"What difference does it make?" Deadeye grumbled. "I don't know. I've never taken an apprentice with me before."

"Do you think they'll like me?" Copperpaw turned back, and he thought he saw his mentor smiling in spite of himself, but the dark tabby turned away before he could be sure.

"They already know you, Copperpaw. They are your past Clanmates and predecessors. They should like you, though. I'm taking you to meet them because you demonstrated your skill with medicine yesterday, and you've made good progress in your training. It is time you learned about the other half of your role as medicine cat."

"Is that it? Is that the Moontree?"

"Yes. That's the Moontree."

"Great StarClan!" Copperpaw exclaimed in awe, and then he laughed nervously at himself, because that was exactly who he was going to meet, if all went well. "Do they ever... not show up?" he asked, not sure how this was going to work. They were StarClan; they couldn't exactly be summoned.

"I've heard of that happening," Deadeye replied. He paused at the base of the tree and then launched himself up the trunk, pulling himself up by his claws and then finding his way onto a branch.

Copperpaw followed him and picked a different branch.

"They know what I'll say about them if they leave me waiting, though," he muttered, and though the comment seemed humorous, his tone made Copperpaw wonder if he was serious. He watched his mentor and saw Deadeye crouch down on the branch, and so he did the same.

"Close your eyes," the older tom instructed.

That was the last thing Copperpaw wanted to do at this height, but he did so anyway. After that, he didn't hear anything else from Deadeye. Was something supposed to happen? What if Deadeye got a dream and he didn't? Copperpaw tried to push his concerns aside, taking a deep breath and listening to his surroundings. The night was quiet, save for the steady chirping of the cicadas and, farther off, the buzz of a rattlesnake warning off some unwary interloper, producing an unmistakable, unsettling sizzling noise with the shaking tip of its segmented tail. Rattlesnakes were deadly dangerous, but they were also quite polite, in some ways. They liked to offer warnings whenever someone got too close. They liked to give everyone a chance.

Copperpaw was just beginning to wonder how far away the snake was when he felt something strike him from overhead, and then it felt like the tree branch was no longer under his paws beneath him. He felt like he was floating. Reaching out for a pawhold, he strained his eyes and looked around, realizing that he had come to a place of large, bright dunes—except the dunes were clouds, pure white clouds, and what he had mistaken for puddles of water were patches of sky. He was in the sky! It was bright here, and wind roared in his ears, pushing the clouds along at an unmatchable speed beneath him as his paws remained rooted in place. He tried to look up and winced, blinded by the sun.

Was this StarClan?

"Hello, Copperpaw," came the sound of a voice, cool and distant and ethereal, and a chill ran down Copperpaw's spine due to the uncanny thought that he'd just heard the voice of a ghost. He turned around to look for the speaker, his fur standing on end.

"Do not be afraid," came the voice again, sounding patient and gentle, though the words were spoken slowly and, somehow, their sound was not at all muffled by the wind. The cat that then came into view was one that Copperpaw did not recognize—a tall, glittering silver-furred figure that he'd never seen before, and whose smell did not indicate any particular Clan. No Clan of the living, that was. The cat was several tail-lengths away, maybe fifteen or so, standing still with its head high and its tail about level with its back. Copperpaw tried to flatten his fur, but that wasn't easy to do when he was this nervous.

"Why'd they send _you?_" came Deadeye's irritated voice, and Copperpaw turned his head to see that his mentor was there to the right, about equidistant from both of them. "You're not someone he knows. You're not even from our Clan."

The cat nodded, slowly, and seemed to be smiling, as if this made little difference.

Copperpaw took a small step forward, looking for other cats and beginning to feel more at ease about the sky passing below his paws. "Where's my brother? Is he okay?"

"Listen, young one. There is much in store for MesaClan. Great danger and misfortune lies ahead. But worry not—the rains shall return one day."

"Cut the dirt, Paleheart," Deadeye grunted. "Explain to him why he can't see Poppypaw."

Paleheart turned his warm smile on the scowling one-eyed tabby and stared at him. "You know the rules."

"But he doesn't," the medicine cat returned, indicating Copperpaw with a flick of his tailtip. "Explain."

Copperpaw looked at the StarClan cat expectantly.

Instead of offering an answer, the gray cat chuckled and purred, "You always were a troublemaker, weren't you, Deadeye?" Then Paleheart turned around and then began walking away, his tail raised, as the light faded faster than was natural and their environment plunged into the dark indigo of night. Stars were everywhere. Through the contour of shadow, the topography of a landscape took shape, and Copperpaw was able to make out spires, boulders, and an archway ahead. Gradually, the natural hues of limestone and vegetation faded into being, coloring the scene.

"Is he going to come back?" the apprentice asked.

Deadeye ambled over to him and gave a labored sigh. "No one knows, with them."

"I don't like this." Lest Deadeye think it was because of Paleheart, Copperpaw added, "The ground doesn't feel solid under my paws."

"You get used to that."

Copperpaw didn't know why, but his heart sank when he said that.

The two of them were silent for some time, standing side by side as the stars rolled along the surface of the stones. Deadeye's expression was inscrutable.

"Their territory is interesting," Copperpaw offered. He didn't want his mentor to think he was disappointed.

"I know," he replied.

Unable to stand it any longer, Copperpaw whirled on him and demanded, "Why won't they let us see anyone we know?"

"Because this is StarClan," Deadeye answered, his voice more loud and forceful than Copperpaw had anticipated. "And the sooner you learn their ways, the sooner you will learn to protect yourself from disappointment."

That was when Paleheart's voice returned, "Don't be cynical, Deadeye, unless you want the coming rains to fall more on CuestaClan territory and skirt the borders of yours." He picked his way down the side of a formation as he spoke.

Deadeye then seemed to realize that he'd gone too far, and now swallowed his pride and curled his tail around close to his body, his ears partially flattened. He looked much tenser now than before. As familiar and cavalier as he sometimes was with them, he did not want to bring on the wrath of those who controlled the sky.

Copperpaw then looked back to Paleheart again, his breaths short and tight as the gray cat dropped down the last step onto the same plane that Deadeye and Copperpaw shared. The gray tom looked calm, friendly even, but as he came closer, there was a heavy, tired sadness in his eyes, an expression verging upon sympathetic. "This should have been a special occasion for you, Copperpaw," he lamented, and although he kept his gaze fixed on that of the apprentice, Copperpaw had the sense that he was blaming Deadeye's insolence. "I'm sorry for what I must tell you."

His ears perked up at that. Was Paleheart about to foretell something?

"There is a rising darkness in MesaClan's future. May you be wise enough to avoid the worst," he continued. Then Paleheart lifted his gaze, and when he spoke again, it was in the aching roar of thousands of simultaneous voices, nearly deafening Copperpaw's ears: "_In the age of flight and blood, hearts will grow cold as passions inflame, ruthless ambition will poison the bold, and if left unchecked, frost and thunder will tear the Clan apart._"

The sound of the voices alone was terrifying, and the words themselves were too vague to give Copperpaw anything other than a confused feeling of unease.

"What does that mean? What should I do?" he asked, bewildered.

Lowering his head, Paleheart made eye contact with him again and spoke in his own soft voice. "Follow your heart, and you shall know the way."

_Well that's useless advice_, Copperpaw thought.

Upon finishing that single sentence, the gray cat faded from sight, and then everything faded, even the boulders and the ground under his feet.

With a lurch, Copperpaw woke up feeling empty and hollow, like a flood had come through and washed out everything inside him, leaving only damp shreds of debris behind.


	16. The Ceremony

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Let all MesaClan cats gather to hear their leader speak! Eaglepaw, Smokepaw, join me."

With her eyes still on Icestar, Skunkpaw leaned toward Darkpaw and whispered in excited tone of voice, "They're about to get their warrior names."

"Why isn't Foxpaw getting his?" Darkpaw answered back.

"Because he ain't ready," came the harsh voice of Scorpionpelt.

Darkpaw was startled, not having realized he was so close by. She looked at him and flattened her ears. His expression told her she should be quiet and listen.

"I, Icestar, leader of MesaClan," came the triumphant ring of their leader's voice, "call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn." Icestar lowered his head from looking to the sky and cast his gaze across the listening ears of his Clan. "But there is a special announcement that should be made first—MesaClan, know that the names for this generation were chosen by Mottlestar, discussed between us well before she died. Tonight we will honor her wishes by bestowing two of those names on two worthy young warriors."

Darkpaw wanted to thank StarClan with loud shouts of praise then and there, but she kept silent.

Icestar looked to Eaglepaw first. "Eaglepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Eaglepaw stepped forward with a resolute look on his face. "I do!"

As the ceremony was taking place, Darkpaw was wondering why Icestar still hadn't made any announcement regarding the battle. That was why Eaglepaw and Smokepaw were being made warriors now, after all. So what did the leader have to say about the defeat at the shallow pools? Was he forming a plan to retaliate? She couldn't speak for anyone else, but his silence on the matter was not good for her morale.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Eaglepaw, from this moment you will be known as Eagleheart. StarClan honors your courage and strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

Icestar rested his muzzle on his head, and in return, the new warrior licked his shoulder.

"_What a joke_," Darkpaw whispered.

Skunkpaw was in agreement. "Courage to what? Whine?"

Darkpaw tried not to laugh. Then Icestar met her gaze and smiled, killing any mirth inside her.

"Eagleheart!" the Clan shouted. "_Eagleheart! Eagleheart!_"

The white leader turned toward Smokepaw next. "Smokepaw," he began, "do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Smokepaw's response was immediate and solemn. "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Smokepaw, from this moment you will be known as Smokefang. StarClan honors your steadfastness and skill in battle, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

Although Darkpaw was jealous and didn't like to be left behind, she still found herself feeling proud of her sister, and she eagerly joined in the chanting.

"_Smokefang!_ _Smokefang! Smokefang!_"

It was such a grown-up name. Darkpaw couldn't wait for her own next name change. After all, every apprentice looked forward to the day they would become a warrior.

Once the ceremony was done, Smokefang and Eagleheart went to the edge of camp to begin their vigil, and she noticed that for some reason, Foxpaw went with them. Eagleheart clearly resented his presence, pinning his ears back, wrinkling his muzzle, and lashing his tail, but tradition would not allow him to speak until sunrise. Darkpaw decided to intervene.

"Foxpaw, don't."

"Don't what?" he asked quietly, sitting beside the two warriors.

"I know you were on the patrol too, and it might not seem fair that you were sent away before you got a chance to prove yourself, but don't bother Eagleheart on purpose, okay? Just leave it."

Darkpaw saw how Eagleheart sat up straighter at the sound of his new name, and how crestfallen Foxpaw looked about being talked out of his petty and misplaced vengeance, and she ached to have a word with Scorpionpelt and Icestar for making Eagleheart a warrior instead of Foxpaw. If only they had any reason to listen to an insignificant apprentice like her. If she'd had any power, she would have set things _right_ around here.

"Come on, Foxpaw. Let's go hunting."

He perked up at that and even seemed pleased with the idea, more than she would have expected from a dreary pain-in-the-tail like him.

The next day, Eagleheart walked up to Darkpaw as she was returning from the dawn patrol, and he raised his tail to be friendly. "So, I'm a warrior now," he told her.

"Yep." She walked past him, intending to go congratulate her sister.

"So... so— so that means you have to do what I say! I'm above you in rank now!"

Darkpaw ignored him.

"_HEY!_" he shouted.

She stopped, turned, and glared at him.

"StarClan's kits! Show some respect!"

"What do you want, Eagleheart?"

"I just wanted you to be happy for me, but apparently that's too much to ask for," he spat.

Darkpaw turned her back on him and went to congratulate her sister. Skunkpaw was already fawning over her, and Smokefang was having none of it, dismissing her words and pretending to be as unemotive as stone while the black-and-white apprentice showered her with praise, but Darkpaw could tell that she liked it.

Later, as Darkpaw was stretched out on a stone and washing herself, Eagleheart approached her with a rabbit in his mouth and dropped it at her paws.

"For you," he said, smiling. The look in his eyes made her uncomfortable.

"I already ate," she told him. "Go put it on the fresh-kill pile."

Eagleheart thrashed his tail and hissed, "Well you could at least act grateful!"

"I'm not."

"_What's wrong with you?_ I'm the nicest a tom's ever been to you, and you still treat me like dirt! Well you know what? You're the one who deserves to be treated like dirt! Bossy, selfish clump of fox-dung! You'll never be worth anything to anyone if you don't quit acting so full of yourself!"

"You think she's full of herself?" Foxpaw cut in. "You should listen to yourself sometime."

"Did I ask for your lame opinion? Go run back to your father's Clan were you belong."

Foxpaw stood his ground, but Darkpaw got up to leave. Fortunately, she was able to get to Junipernose quick enough to discourage Eagleheart from talking to her further, and later, when Eagleheart got assigned to a patrol and left camp, she managed to intercept Icestar and talk to him.

"Icestar, listen, I need you to do something about Eagleheart," she told him as he was walking to his den. This was a risky move, taking the issue to him, but she just couldn't stand him anymore.

"We're all very proud of our new warrior," he answered in a warm, contented tone. Darkpaw thought that was beside the point. "Remember, Darkpaw," he added, "You have yet to earn your warrior name."

"He's been acting aggressive," she pressed. "He won't quit bothering me."

"That's just his way of trying to get your attention. He has strong feelings for you, you know. You should consider taking him as your mate."

_What?! _"No!"

"Just think about it," he suggested, and then he turned away and flicked his tail to indicate that the conversation was over.

Darkpaw was left behind, standing still and too shocked to move, and for a while, too shocked to speak, but as soon as she recovered, she declared to the empty air where he had just been: "No, I will _not_ think about it. Eagleheart is a thorn and a louse, and I want _nothing to do with him_."


	17. Seeking Comfort

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Eagleheart had it all planned out: he would tell Darkpaw that he forgave her for how rude she'd been, and she would be relieved and apologize, telling him she didn't mean it, and that she was actually quite impressed with his battle scars and new status. Then he would take the opportunity to ask her to be his mate, and she would accept. She'd have to come around eventually. What other option did she have? He was the only eligible tom her age. Copperpaw was going to be a medicine cat, and Foxpaw was a total dirtpath. That left only him. And really, what wasn't there to love about a nice tom like him?

He just had to be persistent, he told himself. She may not deserve him, but he'd wear down her resolve sooner or later.

Now if he could just find another chance to talk to her.

Eagleheart paced around camp, awaiting his opportunity and checking the horizon for any sign of her. Darkpaw had talked Junipernose into conducting her assessment already, which meant she'd been away hunting on her own for some time now and would probably be gone for longer still, despite just having been on a hunting patrol not long before. It was almost as if she was avoiding him.

The tabby warrior perked up and got excited when he saw two cats headed in toward camp from a distance away, but he was soon disappointed to realize that it was Icestar bringing home another stranger. Still, that was good too. It was good that the Clan was growing, inflating in size and strength. The more warriors, the better. It was simple logic. With numbers on their side, they might even be able to drive out CuestaClan from their lands for good.

Just like Icestar had said, the kittypet was a strange-looking one, with odd blue eyes and narrow features.

Eagleheart was surprised to see Foxpaw be the first to slink up to him. "Hello, stranger," the gray apprentice meowed.

"Hullo!" the kittypet replied. His expression was bright and cheerful, as if he were delighted to be in the company of so many wild cats. He wouldn't quit looking around everywhere. "Is this your camp?"

"Yes," Icestar told him. "Welcome to MesaClan."

"Oh good gracious. How wonderful. I do hope none of you will do like my Twolegs and shove pills into my mouth."

"Don't plan on it. I'm Foxpaw."

"Pleased to meet you! I'm—"

Icestar interrupted, saying, "Wait until I make the announcement."

"I'm Eagleheart," called the tabby across the distance as he made his way over. "I don't have 'paw' at the end of my name. That means I'm a warrior, unlike Foxpaw here, who's still an apprentice."

"Oh how _fascinating!_ Icestar did not tell me of that practice."

Icestar, meanwhile, was calling a Clan meeting. "I have a new Clanmate to present to you," he announced, beaming with pride. "Everyone say hello to Lucky!"

Batfur and Nightheart offered to give him a tour, and so Eagleheart didn't bother. He was glad to have another warrior in the Clan, but it wasn't like he cared about making friends with some neutered he-cat with crossed eyes. There was something weird about him, anyway.

* * *

Eagleheart would tell no one of what he'd just done.

It'd come easier to him than he'd expected—all he'd had to do, while lingering behind the rest of his patrol, was wait to catch sight of an ArroyoClan cat on the other side, and once she headed over to remind him to respect the border, he'd simply purred to her and complimented her eyes, and after a brief exchange of words and some friendly scent-rubbing and a promise of secrecy, the next thing he knew, they had mated.

It felt good, in its own way. At least he'd been comforted for a while. But it wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't _her_.

In spite of everything, Eagleheart still yearned to have a permanent mate within his own Clan, someone to sleep beside and wash his head and admire him, someone with beautiful black fur and an amazing body who was just saucy enough to give him the runaround, not some skinny calico from across the border who didn't even care. Mating with an ArroyoClan molly wasn't any help in his quest to win her heart, and he felt all the worse because ArroyoClan would get the kits if there were any, which provided no benefit to MesaClan. It was Darkpaw he should have mated with by now, up on the romantic heights of Warrior's Overlook—not out here on the border, with a stranger, as part of some momentary distraction to ease his broken heart. If only she knew how much he wanted her, maybe then she would give in.

Eagleheart trotted up to rejoin the rest of the patrol, pretending as if nothing had happened. "Saw a bird I wanted to catch, but it got away," he lied.

"What was all that yowling about?" Foxpaw asked, feigning innocence, and Eagleheart bristled, about to tell that half-Clan cat to shut his worthless mouth, but it was Yuccaclaw who spoke first.

"Just focus on the task at hand, Foxpaw," Yuccaclaw told him. "I doubt ArroyoClan is going to invade us too."

ArroyoClan had plenty of water and territory for the time being, and they had every reason to be content with their lot, except for the fact that they hadn't had any new litters recently—and they probably didn't have enough trained cats at the moment to go looking for trouble.

"They might, though," Eagleheart suggested. "You never know. We should head back and check to make sure nothing fishy's going on."

"Isn't that the direction you just came from?"

"No! It wasn't!"

"Don't argue, Foxpaw," Scorpionpelt warned, and so he didn't.

Nosy little mouse-dung trying to get into his business. What did he care, anyway? Pathetic son of a border tramp lived just to annoy everyone. He almost wished Foxpaw would go ahead and betray them already so that he'd have an excuse to pummel him into the ground like he deserved.

But Darkpaw—he didn't want _her _to betray the Clan, even though he could feel that it was coming. He just wanted her to love him.


	18. Fault and Blame

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"I just don't like the direction things are going," Darkpaw explained, tagging along with the hunting patrol she hadn't been assigned to.

"If you keep chattering at me," Smokefang told her, "I'm never going to catch any prey."

"Fine, fine..." Taking a seat, Darkpaw was quiet just long enough for Smokefang to go successfully kill a pocket mouse and then hide her catch to come back to later. Then she was at it again, unable to contain her dissatisfaction. "What do you think about the new kittypet?"

"He's a nice cat," Smokefang remarked, scanning the shrubs in the distance for any sign of movement.

"Yeah. But he's not even young, like Fluffypaw." She still sounded chagrined by the name. "He's a grown tom, Smo. How's he supposed to learn how to live with us?"

"Icestar said he knows how to hunt a little."

"Yeah, right. …The thirst must have addled Icestar's senses, for him to be bringing home another stranger like this after what happened."

Smokefang started walking, searching for new prey.

"You know I wouldn't be out here with you right now if Eagleheart would leave me in peace while I'm at camp."

"I know," Smokefang confirmed.

"I hate it. The little snot thinks I'll start finding him attractive if he keeps getting in my face all the time. I could just kill him."

"I'll hide the body," her sister offered, completely deadpan.

"Thanks. ...Hey Smo, you know who I think is _really_ attractive?"

_Don't say Skunkpaw_, Smokefang thought.

"Foxpaw."

Smokefang's sigh of relief was too quiet for her sister to notice.

"He's got a good heart, I think," she went on. "And I like to watch him as he's walking away, if you know what I mean." She wiggled her eyebrows.

Smokefang hadn't realized that the features under a cat's tail were supposed to be appealing to look at. There was nothing interesting about those things, even on the good-looking cats. "How did you do on your assessment?" the warrior asked, changing the subject.

"...Good," Darkpaw replied, after some hesitation. "At least, that's what Junipernose told me. Said I did good. Said I showed real skill. Said she told Icestar about it." She paused again, turning her head. "And, as you can see, he hasn't done anything about it yet."

"You shouldn't expect the ceremony to come immediately."

She gave a loud sigh. "I know..."

It meant more to her sister than it did to her, Smokefang knew. _She_ would have been content to wait longer for her warrior name, herself, but it was Darkpaw who was always eager for rank and recognition. Some cats were suspicious of that, she knew as well. And yet she was hesitant to pin that as the cause for the delay—to think that Icestar might be trying to teach her a lesson in patience or humility by making her wait past her due… it was a thought that occurred to her, but she didn't believe Icestar would do that. Maybe he just didn't believe she'd proved herself yet.

"You should have been a warrior before me," she told her.

Darkpaw looked at her in shock. "Smokefang... You earned the right to be a warrior. You fought in battle. You protected the Clan's borders."

"It's no different than what you would have done." It had been one of the most frightening, trying experiences of her lifetime, but she didn't think it said anything special about her. Battles were supposed to be a part of any warrior's life.

"Yeah, but you actually did it."

She tried to steel her nerves, looking out at the horizon. "...That's just the way the shadows fell that day."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." She kept moving. It wasn't Darkpaw who had led a CuestaClan invasion onto their land and instigated a battle.

"No, I'm... I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"I thought I was going to die," Smokefang blurted. "Like Skypaw." The words were out of her mouth before she could think about it, because she didn't want to think about it.

Darkpaw looked chilled by that statement, a disturbed expression crossing her face, but then she lashed her tail, looking away again, and growled, "We're at war over water, facing death in battle for it, weakening from thirst, and Icestar is bringing in more useless cats as if that's going to do anything good for our water supplies. We can't afford this wastefulness. Somebody ought to do something about him."

"Darkpaw, no. _Listen to me_," she insisted, her voice breaking. She came to a halt and tried to get her sister to look her in the eyes. "This isn't about him."

Darkpaw didn't want to listen, she could tell. She had that stubborn look in her eyes like she always got when she wanted control. But something stopped the dusky she-cat from saying anything further this time—probably the knowledge of how unusual it was for Smokefang to show this much emotion.

"The battle was a terrible thing to go through," she went on. "And it made me confront the reality of being a warrior, and what it means to... to be prepared to die. And it's something that I wish had never happened. But it didn't happen because of him. This isn't something else you can blame on him. Are you listening to me? You can't get mad at Icestar for this to because that's not why it happened, it happened because of CuestaClan cats who want water just as much as we do."

Darkpaw opened her mouth and then closed it.

"When you try to make it his fault, you're undermining the reality of what I went through."

She stayed silent.

"It's my experience to make sense of, not yours." That was all there was to it. After a pause, Smokefang prompted, "Okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, she resumed the hunt, trying to put out of her mind the memories of the immobility she'd felt along with the fangs in her neck.


	19. The Order

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Socks' pregnant belly looked heavy to carry as she waddled to the fresh-kill pile and selected something to eat by herself. She didn't interact with the other MesaClan cats much, it seemed.

Crouched nearby, Skunkpaw lay her head on her paws, trying to ignore the dryness of her throat and the sound of Lucky's incessant whining about his thirst. "I can't wait until Socks has her kits," Skunkpaw sighed, speaking with a wistful air. She was looking forward to getting to play with them once they were old enough, but even as newborns, they would be adorable.

Fluffypaw and Eagleheart were lying on the ground with her, resting in the shade.

"You'll get to have a litter of your own someday," Fluffypaw remarked, as though the thought would cheer her up.

The words did not have the intended effect. In fact, Skunkpaw felt a pool of dread begin to well in her stomach. She lifted her head with a brief glance and replied, "No, I... don't think I will."

"Oh don't worry!"

She was getting more worried now that Fluffypaw had said that.

"A tom will express interest in you eventually," Fluffypaw insisted.

Skunkpaw and Eagleheart exchanged glances. He and Foxpaw were the only tomcats near enough to her in age to be her mate (besides the medicine cat apprentice, who was off limits anyway), and she had never had an interest in either of them, nor them in her.

"Well," he suggested, "you could always attract a tom from another Clan. It's not exactly traditional, but it's a way. You'll find yourself a tom sooner or later."

"That's not going to happen," Skunkpaw interjected. She wish they had never turned their attention on her like this, because now that they had, it was hard to get them to stop.

Fluffypaw looked confused, and Eagleheart asked, "Why not?"

Skunkpaw lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. "Because I like mollies," she confessed, barely above a whisper.

When she chanced a look up at them, Fluffypaw looked too shocked to speak. Eagleheart, on the other hand, looked unfazed. He twitched his tail tip and suggested, "Maybe it's just a phase. You'll grow out of it."

The stocky patched molly was surprised at the rage that overcame her, surprised at the surge of energy, surprised at herself for rising to her paws with a lash of her tail. "You know what was 'a phase'?" she blurted. "Trusting _you_." With that, she turned and began walking away.

"Well excuse me for being nice!" he spat back. "I was _trying_ to be optimistic. But fine, get mad at me. I'm not the _freak_ here."

The shouting attracted Lightface's attention, and Skunkpaw found her worst nightmare being realized. The pale warrior padded toward them, ears pricked, and before Skunkpaw could fully get away, her mother was demanding that Eagleheart explain what he was talking about.

"Skunkpaw says she's never going to mate with a tom. She says she'd rather belong to a she-cat."

"Great StarClan, what was that little brat thinking? She-cats can't mate with she-cats," Lightface stated. "_SKUNKPAW_. GET BACK HERE."

Skunkpaw came slinking back, too afraid to disobey.

"You WILL mate with a tom," her mother declared.

She didn't argue, hoping that would be the end of it, but it wasn't.

Lightface turned and shouted, "FOXPAW."

Foxpaw dropped the rabbit he'd been dragging and lifted his head to listen to her.

"_You and my daughter are going to Warrior's Overlook. Now_."

Skunkpaw wasn't sure whether she'd heard right. This couldn't be happening.

Lightface turned her head to look at her and snapped, "NOW!"

"Come on, Skunkpaw, let's just do it," Foxpaw said.

She saw no way out. The patched apprentice rushed past her mother and trudged out of camp, lagging behind the tom. From there, they journeyed in silence. She dared not say anything even once they were a good distance away, for fear that Lightface might hear her, so it was Foxpaw who spoke first.

"Let's just hide there a while and go back. She won't know the difference."

Skunkpaw could not articulate her relief. A part of her argued that she knew Foxpaw better than that, that she was silly to think that he would ever hurt her; he'd never shown an inclination for anything so terrible, but on the other hand, Foxpaw was an obedient apprentice and had always acted submissive toward the warriors, and when Lightface had turned to him and given him an order, he had acted as though he had every intention to comply.

They were almost to Warrior's Overlook when they heard running paws, and Skunkpaw turned to see Smokefang and Darkpaw coming up on them.

"We came as soon as we heard," Darkpaw panted. Apparently they had run and climbed all the way from camp.

Smokefang looked the most worried that she'd ever seen her.

"Listen, Foxdirt, if you so much as lay a paw on her, you'll be food for the vultures," Darkpaw threatened.

"He didn't do anything. He's fine," Skunkpaw explained, while the tom stepped back and tucked his tail between his legs, afraid of Darkpaw's wrath.

"He'd better not."

Smokefang had stepped forward and rubbed her face against Skunkpaw's, sighing her name in relief before asking, "Are you alright?"

She didn't know what to say. She tried to answer, honestly, but she didn't know. She didn't know if she was alright. No one had attacked her, she didn't need medicine, but no—no, she was not alright.

"How could she just order you to go here?" Darkpaw asked. "Didn't anyone do anything?"

Her questions were met with silence.

"Well, who was there?" she asked, meaning to find out what witnesses she could hold accountable.

"Well, Fluffypaw was there, and Eagleheart," Foxpaw began saying, "and besides Lightface herself, there was Scorpionpelt, and I think Batfur, and Icestar—"

"_Icestar?_"

"Yeah. He didn't really—"

"_Why didn't he say something?_"

"Why don't you go back to camp and ask him?" Foxpaw returned.

"We should. We should do that."

Smokefang looked more hesitant. "Darkpaw, this is enough trouble for one day. We don't need to go hurling grievances at the leader."

"Don't you care what happened?" her sister bellowed.

"Of course I do," Smokefang spat. "But I don't think yelling at Icestar is going to do anyone any good. He _doesn't care_."

"If he doesn't care, then he should have never become leader!"

"Why does everything have to be about leadership with you?"

"Smokefang," Skunkpaw butted in, "Smokefang, please. Don't fight."

The gray warrior fell still except for the twitching of her tail tip. Then she seemed to voluntarily extinguish the fire in her eyes, retreating back into the cold, distant demeanor that she was known for.

When Skunkpaw turned to Darkpaw next, she found that the black apprentice was looking at her expectantly.

"I… I just want to forget this ever happened, okay?"

"Lightface doesn't have the right to order you around like this," Darkpaw replied.

The others nodded in agreement.

"She shouldn't be able to treat you like that. This isn't how a Clan is supposed to be."

"I know, but… Please." Skunkpaw still couldn't handle the thought of confronting her mother, even with friends at her side, and she didn't want this to become part of a huge Clan dispute where she'd have to go head to head with the warrior who had issued the order. That would only make things worse, in her eyes. She just wanted it to be over with.

The sisters exchanged glances. Then, with visible reluctance, Darkpaw nodded her understanding.


	20. The Prophecy

A/N: Erosion may need to go on hiatus in a few weeks while I finish the final chapters (I've got up to 23 complete). Sorry in advance, if that does end up happening, which it probably will.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Copperpaw had just recovered from a case of the hiccups and was carrying some chaparral leaves on his way to the medicine cat den when he heard the sound of whispering voices.

He slowed to a stop, unsure whether Deadeye was talking to himself, but he soon recognized the second voice as belonging to Icestar.

"This is _your duty as a medicine cat_," whispered the leader, in a tone of voice that suggested he might soon lose his patience.

"My duty," replied Deadeye, "is to heal the sick, tend the wounded, and accept messages from StarClan. I have no obligation to pass them on to you."

It sounded like a fight, and Copperpaw didn't dare interrupt them.

"Deadeye, the members of a Clan must work together. If you continue in this stubbornness, I can have you replaced."

Shocked, Copperpaw shrunk back at the threat, but Deadeye sounded unfazed.

"It does not concern you," he maintained.

"If it concerns the fate of the Clan, then it concerns me."

"Who and what it concerns remains to be seen."

"I'm well aware that StarClan speaks in riddles, but if you would only enlist my help—"

"They do not speak in riddles. They speak in nonsense—vague, unhelpful promises made up of more metaphor than clarity, which allow as much of a view into the future as the patterns in the leaves of trees."

"How Mottlestar ever put up with your dirt, I can't imagine," Icestar spat back.

Copperpaw stiffened. Things were getting nasty now. But his paws were frozen to the spot, and he was too curious to leave.

"My role towards you, if any, is to advise you. Not to relay what StarClan would have told you directly if they meant for you to know."

That was a low blow.

"Copperpaw must be well-trained by now. I'm sure he'd be able to take up your position without such lamentable shortcomings as his poor, addled mentor."

Now Copperpaw's fur stood on end.

"He knows he still needs my guidance. He will defer to me."

"You're ill, Deadeye. It's time you face it. Your mind has deteriorated, and you no longer recognize your own Clanmates, nor even your own presence in your own head. How equipped are you to be a medicine cat, if you can't even heal yourself?"

A few seconds later, Icestar exited the den, and Copperpaw scurried off before he could see him, the chaparral leaves still clenched in his mouth.

At the edge of camp, he spotted his brother and made a beeline for him, ignoring the loud chatter between Lucky and Junipernose nearby.

Eagleheart was washing his white chest. "What's got you so fluffed up, Copperpaw? You look like you've just seen a coyote."

The ginger tabby set down his leaves and mewed, "I overheard Icestar and Deadeye fighting."

Eagleheart stopped washing. "About what?"

"I think it was about the prophecy. Icestar wanted Deadeye to tell him, but he wouldn't do it."

"Well, what was the prophecy?"

Copperpaw screwed up his face as he tried to remember the exact words. "In the age of flight and blood... hearts will grow cold as... passions... inflame... ruthless ambition will poison the bold, and... if left unchecked, frost and thunder will tear the Clan apart."

Eagleheart looked even more alert now.

"I don't really know what it means, though."

"Well, something bad's going to happen, obviously," his brother replied, a note of scorn in his voice. "It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"Well… yeah. I did figure out that much."

"Who do you think is the ambitious one it's referring to?"

Copperpaw opened his mouth to answer, but Eagleheart beat him to it.

"I think it's Darkpaw."

That hadn't been what the medicine cat had thought at first, but he nodded anyway. "That makes sense."

"She's the most ambitious cat in the Clan," he added in his idea's defense.

Since they were agreed on that point, Copperpaw asked, "So what about frost and thunder?"

"Sounds like a big storm. But I don't think StarClan gives prophecies just to predict the weather."

Copperpaw nodded, even though he would have preferred a rainstorm to anything else.

"Whatever it is, you can bet Darkpaw will be involved."

"Yeah. Good point. It's easy to imagine, uh, her heart growing cold."

"And her tearing the Clan apart."

Copperpaw was less sure of that, but maybe he just didn't want to imagine that one of his Clanmates would ever turn on him, even one as mean as Darkpaw.

"Whatever this prophecy's saying, it's probably a good idea to keep an eye on her. Good work telling me about it, Cops. I should report it to Icestar so that he can consider this as he's making his decisions." Having said that, Eagleheart stood up and headed off to find the leader.

Then Copperpaw remembered that he still had these leaves to deliver. He gathered them up in his mouth again and once again started toward the medicine cat den, which had now fallen silent. As he entered it, however, he found Deadeye still lurking inside. Copperpaw couldn't help feeling nervous under his gaze.

"What's that you've got?"

He set them down and answered, "Chaparral leaves. They… reduce pain?"

"Is that a question?"

"They reduce pain."

"Correct. Your uncertainty suggests you should study more."

"Do… do you think we might talk about the prophecy?"

His tail tip twitched and he turned aside. "What's there to say about it?"

"I mean, we could talk about what we think it means."

"There is no point. It will only become clear after what it supposedly predicts has come to pass, and then the events of the day will be interpreted to fit the prophecy, rather than the prophecy predicting what will occur. The fragments of visions that inspire StarClan's messages are even less coherent than the prophecies they cobble together to explain them. The future is not a fixed path toward the inevitable; it is a roiling storm cloud of ever-shifting possibilities. No one can make a clear prediction from the things our ancestors glimpse at a distance. It is a useless practice, and StarClan knows it."

Copperpaw was getting frustrated, but he tried not to show it, even as he challenged, "Then what do they keep sending them for?"

"To maintain the illusion that they can be useful to us," he replied bitterly.

"Well, can't they be? They do have powers we don't. They can know things we don't."

Deadeye's tone of voice changed from one of irritation to one of fatigue. "StarClan is an ancient, massive Clan composed of the dead of all the Clans, never advancing without consensus. Those among them who would help us do not outnumber those who would rather aid CuestaClan or ArroyoClan at our expense."

"But StarClan is supposed to be neutral!"

"My dear apprentice," Deadeye replied, "There is no such thing as neutral."


	21. A Gift

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cicadas were humming in the heat as fine gravel crunched under the warrior's paws. Eagleheart paced forward and scanned the scrubland for signs of movement. He'd been assigned to a hunting patrol with some others, but he had loftier plans than simply bringing his catch to the fresh-kill pile that day.

The high temperature of the day amplified the scents in his nose, and among them, he detected a cactus wren. He twitched his tail in anticipation. This was the second prey animal he'd found on this hunt, and he wasn't going to fail this time.

Eagleheart crept toward the smell, ears and eyes alert. The wren saw him before he saw it, and out of foolishness, the bird took flight from where it had been perched inside a catclaw bush.

The tabby warrior seized his chance, leaping into the air as the bird flew past, and twisting his body midair, he clasped the creature in his paws and brought it to his mouth in time to hit the ground.

The wren felt small and tender between his teeth, and he could feel his mouth watering. This one would make for an especially juicy meal. He couldn't wait to see Darkpaw's face when he gave it to her.

Once the group had returned to camp, he sought her out with the dead wren still in his mouth, a limp wing dangling before his jaw as he ambled toward her current resting place. It didn't take long for his approach to catch her attention, her head lifting and her ears pointed toward him as she pulled her whiskers back.

Eagleheart stopped before her, tail held high. He set down the warm body of the wren at her paws and nodded at it. "I know you weren't hungry the first time around, but sooner or later, a queen's got to eat," he told her with a wink.

Darkpaw nudged it with her paw. "You can have it."

"I'm giving it to _you_, gorgeous. Just take it."

"I don't rutting want it, you dirtpath."

At that point, Eagleheart lost his patience. "This is the _second time_ I've brought you something out of the kindness of my heart and you've acted like it's some threat to your precious sense of superiority. Well you know what, border tramp? You're not that special. You're just an arrogant, bitter apprentice who's grouchy from thirst and always wants to get her way. At least if you had kits of your own, you'd have someone who listens when you tell them what to do."

Both of them were lashing their tails, and when Darkpaw hissed at him in reply, Eagleheart was about to say more, but the sound of Icestar's voice disrupted his train of thought.

"Let all MesaClan cats gather to hear their leader speak! Skunkpaw, Foxpaw, join me."

"What's this? A meeting? Oh, how exciting!" Lucky exclaimed.

Eagleheart kept his eyes on Darkpaw as she got up to join the cats gathering around Flatstone. Then he headed in that direction himself and joined up with Copperpaw, seating himself toward the back of the crowd.

Icestar stood tall and regal as the two nervous apprentices climbed onto the rock with him. Eagleheart couldn't help admiring the confident authority in his eyes—especially as he winked at Mesquitestripe below. They didn't draw attention to themselves, but the fact that he and his deputy made frequent trips to Warrior's Overlook had not gone unnoticed by the Clan.

"I, Icestar, leader of MesaClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn. Foxpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Though he looked anxious, Foxpaw's voice did not falter. "I do."

"_Liar_," Eagleheart whispered to himself.

Evidently, Peccaryfur had heard him, because she looked back and cast an icy glare in his direction.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Foxpaw, from this moment you will be known as Foxstep. StarClan honors your cleverness and initiative, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

Eagleheart nudged Copperpaw and muttered, "You know those traits are a bad mix. That cat's going to turn traitor one of these days, mark my words."

Icestar rested his muzzle on the gray ticked-tabby, and after the Clan had finished chanting the new name, Icestar moved on to Skunkpaw.

"Skunkpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Quivering with excitement, she replied, "_I do_."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Skunkpaw, from this moment you will be known as Skunkpelt. StarClan honors your enthusiasm and kindness, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

Skunkpelt licked Icestar's shoulder as he lay his muzzle on her head, then stepped back and puffed out her chest beside Foxstep as the Clan chanted her name, Lucky's voice rising above as the loudest of them all.

"_Skunkpelt! Skunkpelt! Skunkpelt!_"

As soon as the shouts of her new name ceased, she jumped down and ran to Smokefang in a fit of excitement, tackling her. From where he was sitting, Eagleheart chuckled and turned to his brother again. "Can you believe Mottlestar picked that name? _Foxstep_. It has a terrible flow."

"Yeah, I'm not sure it's really the best name for him."

"More like Yellowbelly, am I right?"

"Yeah. Or Tenderfoot."

Eagleheart snickered. "Good one, Cops!"

"He wouldn't be happy if he heard us," Copperpaw replied, laughing.

"Let's find out."

As Skunkpelt and Foxstep headed toward the edge of camp for their vigil, Eagleheart trotted up to them, matching their pace. Although they both glanced at him, they were forbidden from speaking once their vigil began.

"Hey, Yellowbelly."

The two new warriors sat down and looked out at the quiet expanse of quickly-falling night.

Eagleheart stood beside Foxstep, facing him. "Why'd you lie during the ceremony, huh? Everyone knows you didn't mean it."

No reply.

"You wouldn't defend the Clan with your life. The one time you were there when CuestaClan attacked, you turned tail and ran." When he glanced down, he saw Foxstep's tail moving back and forth along the dust, and Eagleheart laughed. "Look! Copperpaw, look! He's swishing his tail!"

"Eagleheart, what are you doing?" came Darkpaw's whiny voice. "Leave him alone!"

Eagleheart groaned and turned toward her. "Aw Darkpaw, I was just having fun. The heartless dirtclod doesn't care anyway. You can't slight the honor of someone who doesn't have any to begin with."

"_Eagleheart_—"

"This ain't any of your business, anyhow. This is a matter between warriors."

Just then, she was joined at her side by Smokefang, who glared at him and stated, "You're disrupting Skunkpelt's vigil."

Eagleheart thrashed his tail and glared back at her, ignoring Darkpaw. "Fine. Have it your way. Since you asked _nicely_, I have some important things to go discuss with Icestar."

With that, the dejected warrior headed out, but not without overhearing a cruel remark from Darkpaw that chilled his heart:

"I'm going to kill that cat someday."


	22. The Storm

A/N: What are your predictions for the ending?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Darkpaw looked up at the sky, conflicted over what she was seeing. The azure plane overhead had gradually darkened with thick, gray clouds, darker than Smokepaw's pelt in places, and every now and then, they burst with bright flashes and thunderclaps that could be heard from miles away. A strange smell rode on the breeze, one the Clan had not smelled in far too long.

_Rain_.

Inside, Darkpaw hated that she could not be more happy for it. This change in the weather would be good for MesaClan and CuestaClan both. If enough rain fell, it might even mean enough water for an end to the war—which is why she battled not to admit to herself what she was feeling.

Deep down, there was a part of her that was disappointed.

An end of the war meant no future battles, no real opportunities for Icestar's kittypets to be put to the test. She didn't want them to get hurt; she just wanted everyone to see the proof that he was wrong. His recruits weren't fitting in, they weren't right for Clan life, and if only they'd seen battle, they would see that too. It would have been better, for their own sakes.

Rain would put an end to any chance of that.

"Rain!" Junipernose exclaimed. "A rainstorm is coming!"

"Praise StarClan!" Lightface shouted.

Lucky's raucous, triumphant yowl overshadowed all.

More and more cats were taking notice, their heads lifted to the sky. Most had been silent up until now, but then the warriors began to cheer, until the roaring thunder drowned out their cries.

Darkpaw turned and slunk back to the rocky overhang, hoping to stay somewhat dry in the coming onslaught. As the light sprinkling began overhead, more and more cats joined her, huddling together and murmuring their relief. Although it was only just past sunhigh today, most of the day's light faded to darkness as rain pelted the ground from above and dribbled over the edge of the overhang, turning dust to mud and sand to thick sludge. Darkpaw could see Smokefang still standing out in the rain, apparently thirsty enough to remain out there and drink from a fresh puddle before coming inside with the rest.

A streak of lightning struck in the distance just as a deafening growl of thunder smacked the air. Her sister's form was illuminated with a flash of pure white before the warrior came loping towards her.

"Why'd you stay out there in the rain so long?" Darkpaw demanded.

Smokefang, dripping wet, just looked at her. "As if you wouldn't do the same to get what you wanted."

"It's just water, Smokefang." But even as she said the words, she knew it was the wrong thing to say, for it had been water that had caused the war.

Smokefang didn't look at her and turned away. For a good while after that, Darkpaw shied away from speaking to her again, burning with shame.

* * *

After the sky had cleared and the rain had passed, MesaClan emerged from their shelter into the rest of camp, now soggy and cool, and Icestar jumped up onto Flatrock to call a Clan meeting.

When he called for Fluffypaw and Darkpaw to join him, she didn't know what this was about at first, but it became apparent soon enough.

"I, Icestar, leader of MesaClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn. Fluffypaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

"I do," she replied, a warbling note of uncertainty in her voice.

Icestar continued, "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Fluffypaw, from this moment you will be known as Fluffyfern. StarClan honors your courage and bravery, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

Darkpaw no longer had the energy to care. She didn't show any reaction to the ridiculous name, not even as the Clan began to chant it, over and over again.

Then Icestar turned his sights on her and began the same spiel, pausing after the question, "Darkpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

She hesitated, unsure if she could find her voice, and then muttered a cold and distant, "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Darkpaw, from this moment you will be known as Darkstorm. StarClan honors your energy and determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of MesaClan."

As she stared down at her paws, her tail low and her eyes lifeless, his words felt like mockery.

The white leader then came closer to rest his narrow muzzle on top of her head. Resisting the urge to draw back, she hesitated before eventually licking his shoulder as a show of respect, as dictated by tradition.

As the Clan began chanting her new name, the name she'd waited so long to hear, Darkstorm felt none of the pride or excitement she had expected to feel, back when she had pictured this moment as a young apprentice. Instead, she felt only emptiness. This moment no longer meant anything to her anymore.


	23. Heartbeat

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Copperpaw was startled awake by the sound of shouting. The tabby's eyes flew open as he pinpointed the source with his ears: some kind of fight between Lightface and Peccaryfur, happening across camp. He could see them standing across from each other in the yellow sunlight, thrashing their tails and staring each other down.

"_Calm down, you fizzing cicada._"

"Unbelievable," the ticked tabby spat back. "Unbelievable."

"You have no reason to scorn me like this."

Copperpaw had never seen Peccaryfur seethe with so much rage. "_You forced my son to_—"

"I didn't _force_ them to do anything!" Lightface interrupted. "I just wanted her to be more open minded."

"You low-down, fork-tongued liar! They know _exactly_ what it means for you to tell them to go to Warrior's Overlook."

"Peccaryfur, you're reading too much into it. All I want is what's best for her, for both of them. How can you oppose that?"

As the two mothers lobbed furious yowls at each other, Copperpaw noticed Skunkpelt, mortified, slink out of camp with Smokefang at her side like a personal guard. At about the same time, Darkstorm was returning to camp. He didn't pay close attention to her, but as he cast a nervous glance around at the Clanmates in the vicinity, he caught sight of her heading toward Mesquitestripe with a determined stride.

"What are you going to do about this?" she demanded.

Mesquitestripe, seated with her tail curled over her paws, replied in a mild, level-headed voice, "What am I going to do about what?"

"The screaming in the middle of camp! Even Lucky has gone quiet!"

"It's unpleasant, but it'll pass."

"You should do something!"

"Well, I don't take my authority lightly. Icestar is not present to be consulted, and I don't wish to meddle in others' affairs."

Darkstorm repeated part of the sentence back to her in shocked exasperation, then cut herself off and blurted, "We're a Clan! These _are _our affairs!"

Mesquitestripe still looked calm, if a bit weary. "Darkstorm, it's clear you care about your Clanmates," she told her, "but you're still young, and you don't always know best."

"You don't even care! You don't even rutting care!" Darkstorm looked around at the others lying around camp, and Copperpaw averted his gaze to avoid making eye contact.

"I am not going to continue this conversation," he heard Mesquitestripe say.

When he looked back at Darkstorm again—Lightface and Peccaryfur still exchanging accusations in the background—Junipernose was walking up to her as Mesquitestripe stood up and left.

"Let her go. It's like I've always told you, Darkstorm. You have to have patience."

The dusky warrior seemed resistant, but she still had some respect for her old mentor, and it didn't look like she would be making any more trouble just yet.

Copperpaw didn't get to see what else would have happened, though, because an alarmed outcry from Nightheart silenced the entire camp:

"_LUCKY!_"

Everyone fell quiet, even Lightface and Peccaryfur, as they all turned to see the black warrior standing over a wheezing, bedraggled Lucky.

"C'mon, we've got to get you to the medicine cat!" he insisted.

As soon as Copperpaw heard that, he leapt to his feet and sought out Deadeye in his den.

"Deadeye?" he called out. "Are you there?"

No reply.

"Deadeye, I think something's wrong with Lucky."

The medicine cat trudged out to the entrance to meet him, and Copperpaw whirled around again—Nightheart and the other tom were headed toward them, with Lucky appearing much thinner than he had on the day he arrived. He was having difficulty breathing, and his pelt was bare in patches.

"What's the matter with him?" Copperpaw asked.

"I was hoping one of y'all could tell me," Nightheart replied. Then, once the others had stepped aside for them to enter the den, he meowed to Lucky, "Take it easy, fella. Just lie down right here."

Lucky slowly eased down onto his side, then began to wash his fur.

"No, no. C'mon, enough of that. You're already losing fur from licking yourself so much."

"It's not clean!"

"Shhh. It's clean enough."

"It's _not clean_," he rasped.

"Great StarClan, it doesn't have to be."

Deadeye had stepped forward and was looking down at the wheezing, anxious tom, his expression grave. Then he and Copperpaw exchanged glances, and the apprentice felt his hope falter.

This wasn't anything he remembered from his training. This wasn't a cough. This wasn't a wound. This wasn't an eye infection. This wasn't swollen gums, or sore muscles, or joint pain. He didn't know what this was. Lucky seemed like he was losing his senses, almost, but that didn't explain why he was laboring to breathe like he couldn't get enough air.

"Copperpaw. Fetch the chaparral leaves," the medicine cat rasped.

He did so and waited while Deadeye put his ear against Lucky's side, listening.

"His heartbeat isn't right," he concluded. When Nightheart looked to him for further explanation, he added, "I'm not sure what this is, but I know something that may help." Turning back to Copperpaw, he gestured with his paw for him to place some of the leaves before Lucky's nose.

Lucky hadn't uttered a word in much longer than was usual for him, staying quiet for lack of breath, but when the stench of chaparral met his nostrils, he wrinkled his muzzle in disgust. Deadeye took the rest of the leaves and began chewing on them despite their bitter taste, making a poultice to apply to the bare, irritated patches of Lucky's skin.

"If it's a rash, this will heal it," he explained, "but the reason for this much grooming is most likely stress. As for the breathing problems, inhaling the scent of chaparral should ease inflammation if there is any. Just to be safe, though, he should not go on any patrols or engage in any strenuous activity. Will you inform Mesquitestripe of that?"

Nightheart nodded. "Of course."

Copperpaw crouched at the sick tom's head and murmured, "Don't worry, Lucky. It's going to be alright."

Deadeye looked back to his patient again. "Lay still and remain with us a while," he ordered. "I will pray to StarClan for you."


	24. Betrayal

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The only good thing to happen since Darkstorm's confrontation with Mesquitestripe was that Lucky was feeling a little better now, or so she had heard. She didn't bother to go see for herself. For now, the warrior was absorbed with listening at the edge of camp, pacing back and forth and scenting the air for any sign of Icestar.

Mesquitestripe had made it clear that she deferred entirely to him and wouldn't so much as bat an eye without his say-so. Finally resigned to that fact, Darkstorm had decided to wait for his return and confront the leader herself.

The sun was gradually making its way down to the austere horizon, and he still was missing from camp.

Secluding herself, Darkstorm kept up her voluntary vigil as the daylight faded and the stars prickled the night sky. The moon would not rise until just before sunrise; it was waning to a crescent, slender and white, the fragment of a once-whole sphere that was now wasting away to a mere scratch in the darkness. She could hear her Clanmates murmuring and the discordant wailing of coyotes in the distance, making her fur stand on end.

Yuccaclaw and Junipernose came and joined her at her sides, one sitting to her left and one to her right, and Darkstorm stiffened.

"You're waiting for Icestar to get back, aren't you?" Junipernose asked in a soft voice.

The black warrior stared straight ahead, refusing to look at them. "_Someone_ has to hold Lightface accountable."

"You're right," meowed Yuccaclaw. "You're absolutely right."

Darkstorm hadn't been expecting her to say that. She blinked and kept staring ahead, but she also relaxed a little.

"He might not be back for a long time," Junipernose warned her, as if that comment was necessary. "I think he's gone to Twolegplace."

Darkstorm held her tongue.

As Eagleheart headed toward the three of them, Yuccaclaw barked a terse, "Move along," to discourage him from interrupting.

The tom hesitated, taken aback, and muttered, "No need to be rude. Sheesh," as he walked past.

Once he was gone, Darkstorm said, "I'm not going to do anything foolish, if that's what you're worried about."

"Oh, Darkstorm," Junipernose chuckled, and there was a kind of melancholy affection to her voice.

"We want you to know we're here for you," meowed Yuccaclaw.

She wasn't sure how much that meant to her, seeing as they showed no signs of sharing her rage, but she relaxed a little more anyway.

Just then, Copperpaw came walking up, taking small, slow steps with his tail extended back at a diagonal. He seemed to grow more nervous when she laid eyes on him. "Uh, hey, Darkstorm," he meowed, "Mesquitestripe says you're to join Icestar, Eagleheart, and Fluffyfern on the dawn patrol."

Darkstorm stared back at him, unblinking. "Is she scared to tell me herself?"

The apprentice leaned away and lifted a paw as though about to step back. "She… said something about giving you time to cool down."

When Darkstorm continued staring at him, he scurried off.

With him gone, she scanned the horizon one more time and then sank down, telling the warriors on either side of her, "Wake me when Icestar returns."

The sky was still dark when Darkstorm jolted awake to the sound of painful yowling. Disoriented and alarmed, she opened her eyes and sat up, looking around. Junipernose was gone, but Yuccaclaw was curled up beside her.

"What's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious?" came the sound of Scorpionpelt's voice. He was crouched a few tail-lengths away from her, eating a cactus wren. "Socks is kitting," he told her.

_Oh_. Well, that explained things, but it didn't make it any less awful to hear. "I hope she's alright. …Sure is loud."

"Yuccaclaw was twice this loud when she was birthing you and your sisters."

At that point, Nightheart passed by between them, asking over the din, "Has anyone seen Lucky?"

"Headed over yonder a good while back," answered Scorpionpelt, gesturing with a jerk of his head.

"_Alone?_"

"Well, suppose so. I just figured he was going off to make dirt."

"Have you seen him since?"

The tabby scowled. "I'm trying to eat here, Nightheart. Take your fretting someplace else."

Socks' terrible yowling still pervaded the camp, but the exchange between Scorpionpelt and her father had caught Darkstorm's attention.

"Is Lucky missing?" she asked.

Nightheart turned toward her. "Well… I can't find him, and nobody's seen him around in a while. I wouldn't say he's missing, but after that trouble with his breathing… I want to keep an eye on him."

She nodded. "I'll let you know if I see him."

As she turned her head to do a quick scan of camp, she caught sight of Icestar headed in from the direction of the sandy slopes, and she was about to stand up when she heard someone else call her name.

"Darkstorm, can I talk to you?"

She looked back over her shoulder and saw Foxstep headed toward her, the sky lightening behind him to the same gray as his pelt. "Sure, handsome. What can I do for you?"

He stopped in his tracks, caught off guard by her tone, and she laughed.

Looking quite confused and uncertain, the tom still stood where he was, hesitating. "Uh…"

"What is it?" she asked, getting up and padding toward him with whiskers forward.

"I just… I just thought someone should know. I saw Icestar talking to another kittypet at Twolegplace."

Darkstorm stopped short, her chest burning and her mouth going dry. "…Maybe it was just to exchange news," she offered after a moment.

"Yeah. Maybe." She could tell he was doubtful. "Anyway, I—"

"_Darkstorm! It's almost sunhigh!_" Eagleheart called, bounding over to her. "Time to head out and patrol the borders! You ready to go?"

The sound of his voice prompted a low growl from her throat. She began to turn toward him but glanced back at Foxstep first. "I'll see you when we get back," she told him, and then, with obvious reluctance, trudged to join the brown-and-white warrior who had his tail straight up in the air. Icestar and Fluffyfern were waiting for them at the edge of camp, Fluffyfern anxious and up on her paws, Icestar sitting tall and serene. Darkstorm looked at his face, and he gazed back a moment before blinking.

As soon as the group had come together and left camp, Darkstorm noticed Eagleheart making eyes at her. She made a disgusted noise and looked away.

"Sleep well during your nap?" he purred.

"I wish it didn't have to end," she replied.

Fluffyfern sped up to sidle up beside him, saying, "I had an incredible dream during mine."

Eagleheart didn't spare her a glance. "Yeah, that's nice. So, Darkstorm—now that you're a warrior, is there anything else you'd like to do with your life? Maybe start a family, have some kits?"

Darkstorm gave him a weird look with a raised eyebrow, then sped up to catch up to Icestar. "Did Mesquitestripe tell you what happened while you were away?"

"We share everything with each other," he answered with a nod. "She's my

mate, after all. I'm a very lucky tom."

That was beside the point, in Darkstorm's opinion. "Do you know about Lightface?"

"I know there is a warrior named Lightface in my Clan, who fought bravely in the war, dutifully mentored two apprentices, and brings home plenty of prey for the fresh-kill pile. Is there another Lightface I should be aware of?"

The warrior lashed her tail. "I'm talking about her fight with Peccaryfur and what she did to Skunkpelt—" As she was speaking, Eagleheart tried to rub up against her, and she sidestepped away and swatted at him. "Knock it off!"

In an even tone, Icestar meowed, "Mind your temper, Darkstorm. We have a patrol to complete, and we need to work together."

"Well, what are you going to do about Lightface?"

"I can understand why you would disagree with her choices. Skunkpelt is your friend, and I wouldn't be surprised if she complained about her to you. But there are two sides to every story; it's wise to remember that."

"So you're just going to let her treat her daughter like that?"

"Darkstorm," Eagleheart interjected, "maybe you should have gotten more sleep. You're pretty grumpy today."

"It's a beautiful day," Fluffyfern chimed in. "I'm glad to be on this patrol with you, Eagleheart."

"Icestar, MesaClan needs guidance and order that it's not getting, and it's suffering because of that. Cats were fighting in the middle of camp yesterday and you and Mesquitestripe never lifted a paw to resolve the issue. Lightface needs to be taught a lesson, not to mention everything else that's been going on: how Scorpionpelt started treating Foxstep during the later moons of his apprenticeship, and the fact that Socks doesn't have any friends, Fluffyfern doesn't fit in—"

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, but it's true. And if the war had gone on—"

"Darkstorm, you're out of line," Eagleheart warned.

"I must agree with Eagleheart," Icestar told her. "You're welcome to your opinion, but be respectful."

"_Be respectful?_ You're letting this Clan fall to pieces! Mesquitestripe defers completely to your authority, and then you _don't even use it_. And you keep bringing in all these strangers who don't even have any connection to any of us, weakening the bond we're supposed to have as Clanmates, without even trying to make them feel at home, letting them suffer new hardships alone and leaving them isolated—"

"Darkstorm," he chuckled, "You talk like I'm responsible for the whole Clan."

"_You are!_"

"Well, if it's so important to you, you could befriend them yourself."

"I'm not going to take care of every stinking cat you bring us!"

"Make up your mind," Eagleheart spat. "One second you're calling for responsibility and integration, the next, you're refusing to do your duty to your Clanmates."

"That's not what I—"

Icestar spoke again, his voice steady and forgiving. "It might be best for you to take a moment to think about this once you've calmed down."

"How can you not see what's happening?" she yowled.

"Now you're just being dramatic. MesaClan has won the war and expanded its ranks. This is a prosperous time for us."

Seething in fury, Darkstorm realized that she would have to be more blunt. "Every decision you've made has come at the cost of our unity. Mottlestar would have never taken MesaClan down this path."

Icestar stopped dead; Eagleheart gasped. All three of the other cats on the patrol turned and stared at her. It was a brutal thing to say, to invoke Mottlestar's legacy like that. Darkstorm knew full well the severity of what she'd done.

Icestar sucked in a breath and told her, in a low tone of voice, "I pray to StarClan every day that Mottlestar would be proud of the leader I've become."

"Hey, is that a cat laying over there?" Fluffyfern, facing a different way now, took a few steps from the group, and the others turned to follow her gaze.

Eagleheart squinted at the pale shape on the ground and muttered, "Is that… _Lucky?_"

"Lucky!" Fluffyfern exclaimed, bounding over to him. "Lucky, we found you! We found—"

The rest of the patrol followed and gathered around him, looking down at their Clanmate's corpse. There was no sign of an attack, no blood, no claw marks or bites. Except for the patches where he had licked himself bare of fur, there was no trace of damage on his body at all. It was as though he had simply laid down and died.

Icestar let out a sigh. "I suppose his illness must have claimed him while he was away from camp. What a shame."

Deadeye didn't have the right herbs to treat him. Whatever he was suffering from, it had gotten worse once he joined the Clan, and if he hadn't, it might not have killed him. As these thoughts settled over her, an electric, thunderous sense of rage swelled in Darkstorm's heart, and she swiveled her head to glare at the frost-white cat as her voice, pitched deep in growl and quaking with venom, ripped through her throat and shouted, "_YOU_."

Icestar responded with a brief look of confusion, and she snarled and lashed her tail as she locked eyes with him, staring into his calm, placid, almost amiable gaze, always gentle, ever-forgiving, ever-wretched in her eyes.

"_You _did this!"

"Darkstorm, don't be irrational. No one is to blame."

He was pretending not to even understand the accusation, and it was then that she decided not to try to explain. There was no use in talking.

She lunged at him.

Icestar tumbled backwards under her weight and felt the sting of her claws before he managed to kick her off and get back on his paws. "Darkstorm,_ what are you doing?_"

She lunged at him again and took him down with her, getting a better grip this time before slicing at him with her back paws. Icestar fought defensively and tried to separate from her, but when she refused to give him that option, he bit her head, causing blood to run into her eye and blur her vision with red. She didn't stop fighting. The warrior wrestled with him in the sand and clawed at him so fiercely that he was forced to fight back.

Internally, she knew that it was hopeless. Even if she could manage to kill him, he had too many lives, and he wouldn't stay dead unless she took all nine. She didn't stand a chance of getting that far—but a desperate hope had seized hold of her heart, a hope that she could take just one, just one, and at least put a dent in the length of his rule.

Her own yowling pained her ears as he flung her off again and ran, leading her in a short chase before he spun around and she threw herself at him, aiming for the jugular. His claws sliced her face instead as she tackled him and they locked for a third time in a rolling whirl of striking limbs.

He was stronger than she thought he'd be. His sharp claws cut deep and fast, and she was laboring for air as she struggled with him, failing to block his blows or get a proper grip on him long enough to turn the fight to her advantage. Each slice and flare of pain sapped a little more of her energy away. Blood was oozing from her pelt and she could hardly breathe.

When he extracted himself from the tussle and stepped back, she lay there and stared up at him with a squinting, bloodied eye, panting, too exhausted to move. The throbbing pain in her body stung like scorpion sting and weighed her down with the force of a boulder.

"Say you'll change," she ordered. Her voice came out as spindly as bird bones.

Icestar looked back at Eagleheart and Fluffyfern, and with a cold certainty, he said, "We'll have to kill her."

Darkstorm didn't intend to let them.

The two other warriors helped hold her down as she struggled, pinning her down under their weight. Then Icestar took her squirming neck into his jaws, her fur pressed flat against his tongue as his long, sharp fangs broke skin and bit down into thick flesh. Her excruciating yowl pierced the air as he held tight, her blood seeping into his mouth, and he placed a paw on her head while he readjusted to get a better grip. Her breaths were coming short and thin, and with a final clench of his jaws, he took her life.


	25. Losses

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Eagleheart had never killed another cat before.

_Why?_ he thought. _Why did she have to do this? Why couldn't she just calm down?_

Beside him, he heard the soft, reassuring tone of Icestar's voice. "You both showed true loyalty today. I am proud to lead such fine MesaClan warriors."

To Eagleheart, the praise felt too distant to offer any relief, like the sight of cool shade too long a trek away. He tore his eyes away from Darkstorm's dead body to glance at the other two. His kittypet Clanmate looked shaken, her eyes tightly focused.

With a flick of his tail, Icestar picked up Lucky's body by the scruff and started to drag him back toward camp. The warriors kept their silence on the way back.

Socks was one of the first cats to catch sight of them as they returned. "Lucky?" she called out.

"Lucky! Oh, _no_—" That was Batfur.

His heart aching, Eagleheart didn't realize his gaze had sunk to the level of the dust until he heard Yuccaclaw's voice.

"Where's Darkstorm?"

Most of the warriors in camp were staring at them by now.

Icestar leapt onto Flatstone to call a Clan meeting. Eagleheart was barely listening. Fluffyfern was sticking close to the tabby's side, clingy as a kitten, as he folded himself down and lowered his head onto his white paws. He was only vaguely aware of Icestar telling the story of finding Lucky "already taken by StarClan" as he watched the dust before him indent with his breaths.

_Would_ Lucky go to StarClan? Did being part of MesaClan, even for a little while, guarantee him that honor? Eagleheart wasn't sure, but he was too devastated to care. Darkstorm was _dead_, and _he_ had been a part of _killing_ her. He knew that she would turn on Icestar one day, but he couldn't have imagined it would be as terrible as this—as terrible as his own claws painted with his future mate's blood.

He could never speak with her again. They could never go to Warrior's Outlook together. They would never get to have kits.

"We disagreed as to the cause of his death," Icestar continued. "That's when Darkstorm, who has always suffered from an unstable mind, lost her wits and betrayed MesaClan by viciously attacking me for no reason."

Icestar paused there, looking across the Clan.

After a moment, Yuccaclaw yowled, "_And?_"

"…And, unfortunately, she was so persistent in her attacks that there was only one way to stop her for good."

Meaning, the three of them had killed her together. Eageheart's stomach twisted with grief. A few warriors gasped, and Scorpionpelt swore, "_By the teeth of the dead!_"

"The vigil for our fallen Clanmate Lucky will—"

"She's _dead?_" Yuccaclaw shouted. "You _killed _her? You _killed my daughter?!_"

"Unfortunately, she gave us no choice."

"And what about the vigil for her?" Peccaryfur demanded, interjecting.

Icestar turned his steady gaze on her. "Darkstorm was a traitor. There will be no vigil for her."

"YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER."

"Yuccaclaw, please contain yourself."

"_CONTAIN MYSELF?" _she shrieked. _ "My daughter is dead because of you. You're not my leader anymore. You're not even my brother. I'll sooner become a kittypet than accept another order from you._"

The rest of the Clan was silent, Nightheart too burdened with grief to console her, and Scorpionpelt and Mesquitestripe had begun backing away from her.

"Yuccaclaw," Icestar mewed, his voice finally breaking with strain. "You realize this will make you a traitor, too, as well as anyone who stands with you."

Peccaryfur walked over to stand at Yuccaclaw's side, staring up at the white tom in defiance.

Eagleheart couldn't believe this was happening.

"Anyone else?" Icestar asked.

"Wait!" Eagleheart shouted. "You're making a mistake! Icestar is our rightful leader, blessed by StarClan! Where's Deadeye? Ask him—he'll tell you!" But when he turned his head and looked across camp for any sign of the medicine cat, he couldn't find him. "Where's Deadeye?" he repeated, and he galloped to the medicine cat den. There he found the old tom crouched back deep in the shadows, muttering to himself a few shaken words in between spots of silence.

"Snakeskin and skunk dung," the warrior cursed. "You're no help when you get like this."

Deadeye didn't answer, his eyes foggy and far away.

The young tabby felt Copperpaw appear at his side, nudging him and rubbing his shoulder with his cheek. "Leave him alone. He can't hear you right now."

Eagleheart whirled on him, exclaiming, "He's the medicine cat! We _need_ him! The Clan is rebelling against our leader and someone has to explain the will of StarClan—"

"StarClan doesn't matter," Copperpaw replied.

His brother stared at him.

"Nothing does, anymore. It wouldn't be enough to stop what's happening. It is as StarClan foretold."

Eagleheart narrowed his eyes. "_Medicine cats_," he muttered as he turned away. When he emerged from the den, Yuccaclaw and Peccaryfur were gone. Off to Twoleg-place to become kittypets, he assumed. Good riddance. At least most of the Clan was still intact. Hopefully, when the hunting patrol got back and Skunkpelt and Smokefang returned from whatever they'd gotten up to, no more would follow down the path of betrayal.

* * *

After the vigil for Lucky, Eagleheart sought out Icestar and sat beside him to watch a ring of vultures circle in the distance, a deep exhaustion pervading his bones.

"I miss her already," he mewed.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Icestar replied with a nod.

She was never coming back. She was _never_ coming back. He'd never get to touch her again. "How will I have a family now?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Smokefang would make a good mother, don't you think?"

"I guess." Eagleheart thought about it for a moment and found himself warming toward the idea. Smokefang wasn't near as ornery as Darkstorm had been. He could make her his mate easily. The warrior took a deep breath and sighed, pain glistening in his soft blue eyes. "So there's still hope."

"There will always be hope. And if you do not find your satisfaction with her, then perhaps you will take interest in others. We still have new Clanmates yet to come."


	26. Dusk

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Only the steady chirping of crickets filled the air, and nothing else. An unusual quiet pervaded the camp. It was dusk, just past sunset, and on a normal night there would be more warriors milling about and carrying on causal conversations with each other. Instead, it seemed only the crickets had anything to say tonight.

She would never hear her sister's voice again. Both of her littermates, gone, _dead_. Smokefang was still in shock, from the moment she'd first heard.

She was the last of her litter now. The only one left.

Skypaw must have gone to StarClan for sure, and the gray warrior had always expected to join her there, but Darkstorm…? Would StarClan let her join their ranks after… after what happened? Could traitors go to StarClan?

She didn't know the answer to that.

How much of Icestar's story was even true?

She didn't know the answer to that, either.

She didn't want to believe that her sister could have attacked their leader, but knowing Darkstorm, it was well within the range of possibility. For as long as she lived, Smokefang would never know what really happened that day—the day that the leader and two other warriors had killed her sister.

How was she supposed to remain loyal to him now?

Smokefang lifted her chin from her paws as her ears caught another sound other than the crickets, somewhere close by—something like the shifting of gravel. Without disturbing Skunkpelt beside her, she lifted herself to her paws and padded toward the source of the faint noise.

It was a cat, she discovered. Foxstep was making his way down a gravelly slope that lead out of camp. Smokefang paused at the edge overlooking his path.

"You shouldn't go alone," she told him, her meow quiet but stern.

It was simple common sense for a MesaClan cat: the coyotes came out at this time of night, when the sky turned a deep, darkening gray with the last breaths of sunlight fading on the horizon. There was safety in numbers. Foxstep knew better than to go off by himself, or so she would have thought.

One of his ears turned back at the sound of her voice, and he stopped and turned his head to look at her. Their eyes met. After a moment, he admitted, with a blend of ashamed reluctance and steady resolution, "I don't care. There's nothing here for me anymore."

Smokefang waited and listened.

Seeing that she wasn't going to argue, Foxstep explained, "It's taken me until now to realize it, but… I… I loved Darkstorm."

The crickets were still chirping in the distance, theirs the only voices undaunted.

Foxstep appeared to have a difficult time getting the words out, squinting at the rocks under his paws. "She meant more to me than I can say. And she was right. About everything."

Smokefang wasn't so sure about that, but she chose to say nothing.

"And now that she's gone… "

Grief and denial roiled in the pit of her stomach.

"…and… and with my mother banished… without either of them here, I realized I have no reason to stay."

She nodded her understanding, and they looked at each other in silence, the chirping continuing around them in the solemn darkness. Foxstep had a questioning look in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether she would report this to Mesquitestripe or argue with him to stay.

Instead, she asked, "Where will you go?"

He looked off to the dimming horizon. "To the Clan of my father, if they'll take me."

ArroyoClan. It made sense. Smokefang made the decision quickly. "I'll come with you."

Foxstep lifted his eyebrows in surprise at that, but he didn't have any reason to argue with her. Instead, he turned to resume his descent down the slope. "Alright. Then let's go."

"Wait."

He paused and looked back at her again.

"I have to tell Skunkpelt first." The solid gray warrior spun around and headed back the way she'd came, returning to where the black-and-white molly was napping in the dust, curled up tight in a ball with her paw over her face. Smokefang lowered her head and whispered her mate's name, then began to wash the space between her ears.

Skunkpelt awoke drowsily, looking up at her with sleepy eyes and just beginning to uncurl and stretch.

"We're leaving," Smokefang stated.

"Who?"

"Us. You, me, and Foxstep. We're leaving."

"To hunt?"

"No. Leaving MesaClan behind. Foxstep is going to ArroyoClan, and I want us to come with him."

The patched warrior slowed and lifted her unfocused eyes, swimming in confusion, but soon blinked and lifted herself to her paws. Smokefang knew she wouldn't have to explain why they were going. Foxstep's mother was gone. Smokefang's mother and her mentor were gone. She had a feeling that others would soon be gone, too.

And yet there remained a trace of uncertainty in Skunkpelt's eyes, something Smokefang couldn't understand the reason for. Internally, she guessed that it might have had something to do with wanting to spend more time with Sock's kits, until the patched warrior whispered, "Lightface will be angry."

"Let her be."

Skunkpelt's expression remained.

"She'll be far away, and I will be with you."

They both turned their heads at the sound of a coyote's howl, soon joined by more in an ominous chorus of discordant yipping and screaming. Skunkpelt cringed at the sound. Smokefang's eyes tightened their focus as she trained her ears on it and lifted her head.

"They're somewhere near the Eye of Fate," she determined. That placed them in the opposite direction from the way to the ArroyoClan border. "If we go now, we should be safe."

Skunkpelt shifted her paws, the tip of her tail curling over. "In ArroyoClan… there will be more toms… When you get there, you could take a mate. A real mate."

"We are real mates."

"I—" Skunkpelt lowered her wide head, but Smokefang could see that her whiskers were reaching forward. "Are you sure you want me to come with you?"

"_Yes_." Smokefang rubbed her head against her cheek. As difficult as the gray warrior found it to express emotion in a way others recognized, she tried to strengthen her inflection as she stated bluntly, "I want you to be with me. And as long as you'll have me, _I_ will be with _you_." Smokefang stepped forward, rubbing against the length of her mate before turning around again, and swore, with aching sincerity, "Come heat or high water."

Skunkpelt was purring as Smokefang glanced up and caught sight of Foxstep padding toward them.

"Well? Are you coming?" he whispered.

"We are."

"Good, because I don't want to go alone anymore." He cast a wary glance off in the distance, toward the direction of the howling that had by now died down, and then looked back to Smokefang. "Lead the way."

And so that's what she found herself doing—leading the way, with Skunkpelt at her side and Foxstep trailing behind with constant glances back over his shoulder, leaving the only home they'd ever known behind, journeying away, just like the sun that had already set.

.

.

.

_the end_


End file.
